The Stag Viewing Himself in the Stream

								
Beside a fountain in the wood
    A royal Stag admiring stood:
    His antlers pleased him well.
But one thing vexed him to the heart:
His slender legs ill matched the part
    On which he loved to dwell.

"Nature has shaped them ill," said he,
Watching their shadows peevishly:
    "Here is a disproportion!
My horns rise branching, tall, and proud;
My legs disgrace them, 'tis allowed,
    And are but an abortion."

Just then a deer-hound frightened him,
And lent a wing to every limb.
O'er bush and brake--he's off!
At those adornments on his brow
The foolish creature praised just now
He soon begins to scoff.

Upon his legs his life depends:
They are his best and only friends.
He unsays every word,
And curses Heaven, that has sent
A dangerous gift. We all repent
Speeches that are absurd.

We prize too much the beautiful,
And useful things spurn (as a rule);
Yet fast will beauty fleet.
The Stag admired the antlers high,
That brought him into jeopardy,
And blamed his kindly feet.
								Rate this book:
0.0 / 0 votes