The Nightingale And Glowworm.

A nightingale, that all day long     Had cheerd the village with his song,     Nor yet at eve his note suspended,     Nor yet when eventide was ended,     Began to feel, as well he might,     The keen demands of appetite;     When, looking eagerly around,     He spied far off, upon the ground,     A something shining in the dark,     And knew the glowworm by his spark;     So stooping down from hawthorn top,     He thought to put him in his crop.     The worm, aware of his intent,     Harangued his thus, right eloquent     Did you admire my lamp, quoth he,     As much as I your minstrelsy,     You would abhor to do me wrong     As much as I to spoil your song;     For twas the self-same Power divine     Taught you to sing, and me to shine;     That you with music, I with light,     Might beautify and cheer the night.     The songster heard his short oration,     And, warbling out his approbation,     Released him, as my story tells,     And found a supper somewhere else.     Hence jarring sectaries may learn     Their real interest to discern;     That brother should not war with brother,     And worry and devour each other;     But sing and shine by sweet consent,     Till lifes poor transient night is spent,     Respecting in each others case     The gifts of nature and of grace.     Those Christians best deserve the name     Who studiously make peace their aim;     Peace both the duty and the prize     Of him that creeps and him that flies.