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MODERN FABLES
Perhaps it gave one envious glance
Upon the Fountain's height.
While glittering in the morning's rays,
Pre-eminently bright.
In all the colours of the sky
Alternately it shone:
The Brook observed with a sigh
But quietly rolled on.
The owner of the Fountain died;
Neglect soon brought decay:
The bursting pipes were ill-supplied:
The Fountain ceased to play.
But still the Brook her peaceful course
Continued to pursue;
Her ample, inexhaustive source
From nature's fount she drew.
"Now," said the Brook, "I bless my fate,
My showy rival gone;
Contented in its native state
My little stream rolls on.
And all the world has cause, indeed.
To own, with grateful heart.
How much great Nature's work excels
