Obedient drops the struggling
Worm just in the current’s mouth,
Whare the water fust begins its race.
Oh! art exquisitt! Oh! bliss extatic!—
(None but the Ishmahels hav lernt
This art, or this bliss felt.)
Down the brook’s swift thrut swims
The giddy worm, a fatal journey,
For darting, az a streak ov silvry light
From sentinal place, the