Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/315

Rh Less than thyself, and who still art thyself Entire, though the deep draught which Time has taken Equals thy present store—No line can reach To thy unfathomed depths. The reasoning sage Who can dissect a sunbeam, count the stars, And measure distant worlds, is here a child, And, humbled, drops his calculating pen. On and still onward flows the ceaseless tide, And wrecks of empires and of worlds are borne Like atoms on its bosom.—Still thou art And he who does inhabit thee.