And from the deep the little Beroë bring;
Beneath the sunlit wave she swims conceal’d
By her own brightness;—only now reveal’d
To sage’s eye, that gazes with delight
On things invisible to vulgar sight.
When first extracted from her native brine,
Behold a small round mass of gelatine,
Or frozen dew-drop, void of life and limb:
But round the crystal goblet let her swim
’Midst her own element; and lo! a sphere