XXVII.

ENOUGH.

God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starve, -- My poignant luxury To own it, touch it, prove the feat That made the pellet mine, -- Too happy in my sparrow chance For ampler coveting.

It might be famine all around, I could not miss an ear, Such plenty smiles upon my board, My garner shows so fair. I wonder how the rich may feel, -- An Indiaman -- an Earl? I deem that I with but a crumb Am sovereign of them all.

Experiment to me Is every one I meet. If it contain a kernel? The figure of a nut

Presents upon a tree, Equally plausibly; But meat within is requisite, To squirrels and to me.