The Herons
and the Herrings.
A fable.
A Heron once came—I can
scarcely tell why—
To the court of his cousins, the fishes,
With despatches, so heavy he scarcely could fly,
And his bosom brimfull of good wishes.
He wished the poor Herrings no harm,
he said,
Though there seemed to be cause for suspicion;
His government wished to convert them, instead,
And this was the end of his mission.
The Herrings replied, and were civil enough,
Though a little inclined to
be witty:
“We know we are heathenish, savage,
and rough,
And are greatly obliged for
your pity.
“But your plan of conversion we
beg to decline,
With all due respect for your
nation;
No doubt it would tend to exalt and refine,
Yet we fear it would check
respiration.”
The Heron returned to his peers in disdain,
And told how their love was
requited.
“Poor creatures!” they said,
“shall we let them remain
So ignorant, blind, and benighted?”
Then soon on a crusade of love and good-will
The Herons in council decided;
And they flew, every one that could boast
a long bill,
To the beach where the Herrings
resided.
So the tribe were soon converts from ocean
to air,
Though liking not much the
diversion,
And wishing at least they had time to
prepare
For so novel a mode of conversion.
A sensible child will discover with
ease
The point of the tale I’ve related—
A blockhead could not, let me say what I please—
Then why need my moral be stated?
