Might see it, from the mossy shore
Dissevered, float upon the Lake, 10
Float with its crest of trees adorned
On which the warbling birds their pastime take.
Food, shelter, safety, there they find;
There berries ripen, flowerets bloom;
There insects live their lives, and die; 15
A peopled world it is; in size a tiny room.
And thus through many seasons’ space
This little Island may survive;