Once on a time, a paper kite

Was mounted to a wondrous height;

Where, giddy with its elevation,

It thus express'd 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, could do?

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

And pierce the clouds beyond their sight.

But, ah! like a poor prisoner bound,

My string confines me near the ground.

I'd brave the eagle's towering wing,

Might I but fly without a string."

It tugg'd and pull'd, 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 flutter'd downward through the air;

Unable its own course to guide,

The winds soon plunged it in the tide.

Oh! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing,

How could'st thou fly without a string?

My heart replied, "Oh, Lord, I see

How much the kite resembles me!

Forgetful that by thee I stand,

Impatient of thy ruling hand;How oft I've wish'd 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."