The Silk-Worm

There is no form upon our earth That bears the mighty Maker's seal, But has some charm:-to draw this forth, We must have hearts to feel. I saw a fair young girl-her face Was sweet as dream of cherished friend- Just at the age when childhood's grace And maiden softness blend. A silk-worm in her hand she laid, Nor fear, nor yet disgust was stirred; But gaily with her charge she played, As 'twere a nestling bird. She raised it to her dimpled cheek, And let it rest and revel there,- O, why for outward beauty seek- Love makes its favourites fair! That worm-I should have shrunk, in truth, To feel the reptile o'er me move; But, loved by innocence and youth, I deemed it worthy love. Would we, I thought, the soul imbue, In early life, with sympathies For every harmless thing, and view Such creatures formed to please: And when with usefulness combined, Give them our love and gentle care- O, we might have a world as kind As God has made it fair! There is no form upon our earth, Bearing the mighty Maker's seal, But has some charm:-to call this forth We need but hearts to feel.