In form, too, I differ—I’m thick and I’m thin,

I’ve no flesh and no bones, yet I’m covered with skin;

I’ve more points than the compass, more stops than the flute;

I sing without voice, without speaking confute.

I’m English, I’m German, I’m French, and I’m Dutch;

Some love me too fondly, some slight me too much;

I often die soon, though I sometimes live ages,

And no monarch alive has so many pages.

Hannah More.

A BOY’S SONG.