The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman– To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen– The Road to Bethlehem Since He and I were Boys Was leveled, but for that ‘twould be A rugged Billion Miles–

There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away, Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry – This Traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of Toll – How frugal is the Chariot That bears a Human soul.

The Sky is low — the Clouds are mean. A Travelling Flake of Snow Across a Barn or through a Rut Debates if it will go — A Narrow Wind complains all Day How some one treated him Nature, like Us is sometimes caught Without her Diadem.