A humble snail crawled from his shell one night
To drink the dew and surfeit on young greens;
How came he wise in nature when so slight
A weakling of it passes wisdom’s means.
But as he inched along, a winking star
His locomotion mocked and oddity—
“How far, O pigmy gastropod, how far
Dost thou suppose it is from thee to me?
“And at the rate of travel thou dost creep
How long to bridge the distance would it take?
Yet I across its vastness nightly leap
While you a paltry rod of progress make.”
“I may be slow,” the snail vouchsafed reply,
“But then I’m no pretense, howe’er you twit;
Thou movest not at all except thy eye
And now as I perceive thy nimble wit.
“No doubt we both our mission magnify;
You give the world the cheer of astral fire
While from a lowlier position I
A proverb for its ridicule inspire,—
“A proverb which, while I’m the ancient butt,
Yet makes the human snail a byword too,
And often moves him more of life to put
In duty; therefore why so much ado?”
The star had no retort, so saved its face
By prompt amends:—“My brother, you are right;
We both are filling our appointed place
To teach the world a lesson. So good night!”