THE man that pays his pence, and goes Up to thy lofty cross, St. Paul, Looks over London's naked nose, Women and men: The world is all beneath his ken, He sits above the @3Ball@1. He seems on Mount Olympus' top, Among the Gods, by Jupiter! and lets drop His eyes from the empyreal clouds On mortal crowds. Seen from these skies, How small those emmets in our eyes! Some carry little sticks -- and one His eggs -- to warm them in the sun: Dear! what a hustle, And bustle! And there's my aunt. I know her by her waist, So long and thin, And so pinch'd in Just in the pismire taste. Oh! what are men? -- Beings so small, That, should I fall Upon their little heads, I must Crush them by hundreds into dust! And what is life? and all its ages -- There's seven stages! Turnham Green! Chelsea! Putney! Fulham! Brentford! and Kew! And Tooting, too! And oh! what very little nags to pull 'em. Yet each would seem a horse indeed, If here at Paul's tip-top we'd got 'em; Although, like Cinderella's breed, They're mice at bottom. Then let me not despise a horse, Though he looks small from Paul's high cross! Since he would be, -- as near the sky, -- Fourteen hands high. What is this world with London in its lap? Mogg's Map. The Thames, that ebbs and flows in its broad channel? A @3tidy@1 kennel. The bridges stretching from its banks? Stone planks. Oh me! hence could I read an admonition To mad Ambition! But that he would not listen to my call, Though I should stand upon the cross, and @3ball!@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUTUMN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JOHN BROWN'S BODY by CHARLES SPRAGUE HALL THE YOUNG CARPENTER by AL-RUSAFI THE SPIRIT OF THE TIMES by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE HARVEST by EVA K. ANGLESBURG SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 5. ETERNAL by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SELF-COMMUNING by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE IN A LETTER TO A.R.C. ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED ANNA by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |