ARBOR DA Y MAX UAL. 1 5 



THE PEBBLE AND THE ACORN. 



* T AM a pebble ! and yield to none ! " 



1 Were the swelling words of a tiny stone ; 

 " Nor time nor seasons can alter me; 



I am abiding, while ages flee. 

 The pelting hail, and the drizzling rain, 



Have tried to soften me, long, in vain; 

 And the tender dew has sought to melt 



Or touch my heart, but it was not felt. 

 There's none that can tell about my birth, 



For I am as old as the big. round earth. 

 The children of men arise, and pass 



Out of the world, like the blades of grass; 

 And many a foot on me has trod, 



That's gone from sight and under the sod, 

 I am a pebble ! but what art thou, 



Rattling along from the restless bough ? " 



The acorn was shocked at this rude salute, 



And lay for a moment abashed and mute ; 

 She never before had been so near 



His gravelly ball, the mundane sphere; 

 And she felt for a time at a loss to know 



How to answer a thing so coarse and low. 

 But to give reproof of a nobler sort 



Than the angry look, or the keen retort. 

 At length she said, in a gentle tone, 



" Since it has happened that I am thrown 

 From the lighter element where I grew, 



Down to another so hard and new, 

 And beside a personage so august, 



Abased, I will cover my head with dust, 

 And quickly retire from the sight of one 



Whom time, nor season, nor storm, nor sun, 

 Nor the gentle dew, nor the grinding heel 



Has ever subdued, or made to feel ! " 

 And soon in the earth she sunk away. 



From the comfortless spot where the pebble lay. 



But it was not long ere the soil was broke 



By the tiny head of an infant oak ! 

 And, as it arose, and its branches spread, 



The pebble looked up, and wondering, said, 

 "A modest acorn, never to tell 



What was inclosed in its simple shell ! 



