TO A FRAGMENT OF COTTON.
Methinks thou'rt indestructible. At first
But the slight remnant of a spruce cravat,
Thou cam'st unbidden to my premises,
And then the baby tore thee, and the dog
Did munch thee in a corner, where he play'd;
Next thou wert hanging at the housemaid's broom,
Yet here thou art, for all.
Hast e'er a tongue?
No doubt. The veriest triflers oft can boast
Great store of words. If thou hast aught to say,
I'll be a listener. Tell me of thy birth,
And all thy strange mutations, since the dow
Of infancy was on thee, to thine hour
Of finish'd beauty 'neath the shuttle's skill.
So, thou wert known in history! and thy sire
The sounding name of Sir Gossypium bore.
He was a younger brother of the fleece,
And of the flax of Egypt, and the silk
Which the poor spinning-worm doth die to make
A present of, to those who thank her not.
Thy race have multiplied exceedingly,
And sown themselves in every sunny zone
Of both the hemispheres. The planter's hand,
Well pleased, doth play about their thickening beard
When its young promise tints the ripen'd cheek.
