Poor Mrs. Bond! what could she do

But change the breed—and she tried divers,

Which dived as all seemed born to do;

No little ones were e’er survivors—

Like those that copy gems, I’m thinking,

They all were given to die-sinking!

In vain their downy coats were shorn:

They floundered still,—Batch after batch went!

The little fools seemed only born

And hatched for nothing but a hatchment!