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When I saw the peasant faintly reel

With the toil that he daily bore,
As he feebly turned the tardy wheel,

Or tugged at the weary oar;
When I measured the panting courser's speed,

The flight of the carrier dove,
As they bore a law a king decreed,

Or the lines of impatient love;
I could not but think how the world would feel,

As these were outstripp'd afar,
When I should be bound to the rushing keel,

Or chained to the flying car.

Ha! ha! ha! they found me at last;

They invited me forth at length; And I rushed to my throne with a thunder-blast,

And laughed in my iron strength. Oh! then you saw a wondrous change

On the earth and ocean wide, Where now my fiery armies range,

Nor wait for wind or tide.

Hurrah! hurrah! the waters o'er,

The mountain's steep decline,
Time, space, have yielded to my power,

The world! the world is mine!
The rivers the sun hath earliest blessed,

Or those where his beams decline;
The giant streams of the queenly West,

Or the Orient floods divine:

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The ocean pales where'er I sweep,

To hear my strength rejoice,
And the monsters of the briny deep

Cower, trembling at my voice.
I carry the wealth and the lord of earth,

The thoughts of his godlike 'mind;
The wind lags after my flying forth,

The lightning is left behind.

In the darksome depths of the fathomless mine,

My tireless arm doth play,
Where the rocks ne'er saw the sun's decline,

Or the dawn of the glorious day.
I bring earth's glittering jewels up

From the hidden caves below;
And I make the fountain's granite cup

With a crystal gush o'erflow.

I blow the bellows, I forge the steel,

In all the shops of trade;
I hammer the ore, and turn the wheel

Where my arms of strength are made;
I manage the furnace, the mill, the mint;

I carry, I spin, I weave;
And all my doings I put in print,

On every Saturday eve.

I've no muscles to weary, no frame to decay,

No bones to be “laid on the shelf”;
And soon I intend you may “go and play,”

While I manage this world myself.

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But harness me down with your iron bands;

* Be sure of your curb and rein; For I scorn the strength of your puny hands,

As the tempest scorns a chain. Pü'ny, very weak; con cealed' (kon sēld'), hidden; way'ward (wā'werd), uncertain; cour'ser (kõr'sēr), a fast horse; O'ri ent, eastern; forge, shape; mint, place where money is coined. STUDY HELPS

Who speaks in this poem? In what kind of humor is he? Why does he tell us to harness him down?

Why did he laugh as he lay concealed?

What things are mentioned in the second and third stanzas that the steam thought he could outstrip when given a chance?

Read the lines that tell what happened when “they found me at last.”

Why does he say "the world is mine"?

Read as many passages as you can find in which the steam tells what he does.

Does he put all these things “in print" oftener now than "every Saturday eve”?

In the last stanza what advantage does he say he has over man?

Do you suppose it will ever be true that we may “go and play" and let steam manage things?

Why does he repeat his caution about harnessing him down?

TWO TWISTERS

I. ONE, TWO, THREE

One old Oxford ox opening oysters;
Two tee-totums totally tired of trying to trot to Tadbury;
Three tall tigers tippling tenpenny tea;
Four fat friars fanning fainting flies;
Five fishers foolishly fishing for flies;
Six sportsmen shooting snipe;

Seven Severn salmon swallowing shrimps;
Eight Englishmen eagerly examining Europe;
Nine nimble noblemen nibbling knobs;
Ten tinklers tinkling upon ten tin tinder boxes with ten

tenpenny tacks;
Eleven elephants elegantly equipped;
Twelve typographers typically translating type.

II. A CURE FOR THE HICCOUGH

(Read in one breath) A thatcher of Thatchwood went to Thatchet a-thatching. Di a thatcher of Thatchwood go to Thatchet a-thatching? If a thatcher of Thatchwood went to Thatchet a-thatching, Where's the thatching the thatcher of Thatchwood has thatched?

Old Nonsense.

THE NOSE

THE BROTHERS GRIMM

I

Did you ever hear the story of the three poor soldiers, who, after having fought hard in the wars, set out on their road home, begging their way as they went?

They had journeyed a long way, sick at heart with their bad luck at thus being turned loose on the world in their old age, when one evening they reached a deep, gloomy wood through which they must pass; night came fast upon them, and they found that they must, however unwillingly,

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