o that which warbles through the vernal wood!
The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine,
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line:
n the nice bee, what sense so subtly true,
From poisonous herbs extracts the healing dew!
How instinct varies in the grovelling swine,
Compared, half reasoning elephant, with thine!
Twixt that, and reason, what a nice barrier;
Forever separate, yet forever near!
Remembrance and reflection, how allied;
What thin partitions sense from thought divide!
And middle natures, how they long to join,
Yet never pass the insuperable line!
Without this just gradation, could they be
Subjected, these to those, or all to thee?
The powers of all subdued by thee alone,