I SAW HIM WITH THAT LILY CROPP'D IMPATIENT SWIM TO MEET MY QUICK APPROACH. AND SOON HE DROPP'D Vol I. LONDON, PUBLISHED JUNE 1.1810.BY JOHN SHARPE PICCADILLY. My ramble ended, I return'd; Beau, trotting far before, The floating wreath again discern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd The treasure at my feet. Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried, My dog shall mortify the pride But chief myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT. AN Oyster, cast upon the shore, Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Ordain'd to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease; Now in the water and now out. I envy that unfeeling shrub, Was hurt, disgusted, mortified, And with asperity replied. When, cry the botanists, and stare, Did plants call'd sensitive grow there? No matter when—a poet's muse is To make them grow just where she chooses. You that are but almost a fish, For many a grave and learned clerk, And many a gay unletter'd spark, With curious touch examines me, If I can feel as well as he; And when I bend, retire, and shrink, In being touch'd, and crying-Don't! O'erheard and check'd this idle talk. And your fine sense, he said, and yours, |