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."