An Ant who in a brook would drink
Fell off the bank. He tried
To swim, and felt his courage sink--
This ocean seemed so wide.
But for a dove who flew above
He would have drowned and died.
The friendly Dove within her beak
A bridge of grass-stem bore:
On this the Ant, though worn and weak.
Contrived to reach the shore
Said he: "The tact of this kind act
I'll cherish evermore."
Behold! A barefoot wretch went by
With slingshot in his hand.
Said he: "You'll make a pigeon pie
That will be kind of grand."
He meant to murder the gentle bird--
Who did not understand.
The Ant then stung him on the heel
(So quick to see the sling).
He turned his head, and missed a meal:
The pigeon pie took wing.
And so the Dove lived on to love--
Beloved by everything.