THE MOLE AND THE EAGLE.
The mole is blind, and under ground,
Snug as a nest her home is found;
She dwells secure, nor dreams of sight—
What need of eyes where all is night!
The eagle proudly soars on high,
Bright as the sunbeams is his eye—
To lofty rocks he wings his way,
And sits amid the blaze of day.
The mole needs not the eagle's eye,
Unless she had his wings to fly—
The light of day no joy would give,
If under ground she still must live.
And sad 'twould for the eagle be,
If like the mole, he could not see,
Unless you took his wings away,
And shut him from the hope of day.
But both live happy in their way—
One loves the night—and one the day—
And God formed each, and formed their sphere,
And thus his goodness doth appear.