CLUMSY SERVANT.
NATURE, Nature! you're enough
To put a quaker in a huff
Or make a martyr grumble.
Whenever something rich and rare-
On earth, at sea, or in the air—
Is placed in your especial care
You always let it tumble.
You don't, like other folks, confine
Your fractures to the hardware line,
And break the trifles they break:
But, scorning anything so small,
You take our nights and let them fall,
And in the morning, worst of all,
You go and let the day break.
You drop the rains of early Spring
(That set the wide world blossoming);—
The golden beams that mellow
Our grain towards the harvest-prime;
You drop, too, in the autumn-time,
With breathings from a colder clime,
The dead leaf, sere and yellow.
You drop and drop;—without a doubt
You 'll go on dropping things about,
Through still and stormy weather
Until a day when you shall find
You feel aweary of mankind,
And end by making up your mind
To drop us altogether.