 | New Poems by George Crabbe |  |
Riddle—
I am—nay, that you cannot show.I have been—that, I grant, may be.
I may be—That we do not know,
Nor on the question can agree.
I have a Master, such my lot,
For I am poor, and yet 'tis true
I have a Servant—doubt me not—
My servant is my master, too.
My power is not to mortals known,
My nature is not understood,
Yet kindred with the dust, I own
The Wants and Pains of flesh and blood.
Learn what unearthly things I do,
And wonder at the things you learn,
My Dwelling and my person view,
And wonder will to pity turn.
Yet am I proud as well as poor,
Kings of the Earth have Honour done me,
One came my Knowledge to explore,
Another wrote a treatise on me.
| New Poems by George Crabbe | |