ADVICEI. Poor little poet, The world will laugh, If ever it sees Your pile of chaff; For chaff it will call Your grains of wheat, Perhaps it will add, With smut and cheat; But remember, 'tis said That the ox's eye Catches the' dust And chaff that fly, While the mouse builds of them A cosy nest, And hunts the wheat grains From among the rest. Then let the world laugh, My poor little poet, And say this is chaff, You may answer "I know it." Poor little poet, You've twined the roses, And talked of love, Till it no more imposes; Perhaps it were better To seek the air, And learn something more Of what things are there; And make your heart wider An inch or two, By loving in deed, As you say you do. For love and experience Bound together, Are the best means of length'ning The poet's tether. ___James A. Wickersham
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