Doubtless I might go on to quote,

With added paraphrase and note,

Precept on precept, line on line,

To instance here the fact divine

That of her children, far and wide,

Wisdom is always justified.

Yet why oppress with proof of that,

Since "verbum sapienti sat"?

Suffice it to have struck the vein,

And shown some specimens of ore;

If any seek for further gain,

The mine still holds abundance more.

A mental pickaxe and a biggin

Are all you need to go to diggin'.

For, as the Swedish seer contends,

All things comprise an inner sense;

There's nothing we can write or say,

In howsoever simple way,

But seems a body, built to hide

The soul that straightway is supplied;

And many a fool, and prophet too,

Hath spoken wiser than he knew.

One parting word, and I am gone:

If I 've prevailed to make you see

These things as they appear to me,

Then have I proved my Goose a Swan

And I, small fledgling of the line,

Yet proud to bear the ancient name,

May, for this ancestress of mine,

Claim place upon the page of fame;

That not a bard of Saxon tongue

More true to nature ever sung:

More surely soothed, more deeply taught,

Or passing fact more keenly caught;

And that—exalted side by side

With him of Avon, in the pride

And love of millions—we should lay

The tribute at her feet to-day

That owns her, in this latter age,

Goose, truly,—but, in savor, Sage!