The Silk-Worm Poem by Sarah Josepha Buell Hale

There is no form upon our earth
That bears the mighty Maker's seal,
But has some charm:-to draw this forth,
We must have hearts to feel.
I saw a fair young girl-her face
Was sweet as dream of cherished friend-
Just at the age when childhood's grace
And maiden softness blend.
A silk-worm in her hand she laid,
Nor fear, nor yet disgust was stirred;
But gaily with her charge she played,
As 'twere a nestling bird.
She raised it to her dimpled cheek,
And let it rest and revel there,-
O, why for outward beauty seek-
Love makes its favourites fair!
That worm-I should have shrunk, in truth,
To feel the reptile o'er me move;
But, loved by innocence and youth,
I deemed it worthy love.
Would we, I thought, the soul imbue,
In early life, with sympathies
For every harmless thing, and view
Such creatures formed to please:
And when with usefulness combined,
Give them our love and gentle care-
O, we might have a world as kind
As God has made it fair!
There is no form upon our earth,
Bearing the mighty Maker's seal,
But has some charm:-to call this forth
We need but hearts to feel.