The Kite

[scaraben]

"The Kite and it's String --"


Once on a time a paper kite

Was mounted to a wondrous height,

Where, giddy with its elevation,

It thus expressed self-admiration:


"See how yon crowds of gazing people

Admire my flight above the steeple;

How would they wonder if they knew

All that a kite like me can do!


Were I but free, I'd take a flight,

And pierce the clouds beyond their sight,

But, ah! like a poor pris'ner bound,

My string confines me near the ground;


I'd brave the eagle's towering wing,

Might I but fly without a string."

It tugged and pull, while thus it spoke,

To break the string--at last it broke.


Deprived at once of all its stay,

In vain it tried to soar away;

Unable its own weight to bear,

It fluttered downward through the air;


Unable its own course to guide,

The winds soon plunged it in the tide.

Ah! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing,

How could'st thou fly without a string!


My heart replied, "O Lord, I see

How much this kite resembles me!

Forgetful that by thee I stand,

Impatient of thy ruling hand;

How oft I've wished to break the lines

Thy wisdom for my lot assigns?


How oft indulged a vain desire

For something more, or something higher?

And, but for grace and love divine,

A fall thus dreadful had been mine."


--John Newton