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Ann Taylor - The Child’s Monitor
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THE wind blows down the largest tree, 
And yet the wind I cannot see! 
Playmates far off, who have been kind, 
My thought can bring before my mind; 
The past by it is present brought, 
And yet I cannot see my thought;
The charming rose scents all the air, 
Yet I can see no perfume there. 
Blithe Robin`s notes how sweet, how clear! 
From his small bill they reach my ear, 
And whilst upon the air they float, 
I hear, yet cannot see a note. 
When I would do what is forbid, 
By something in my heart I`m chid; 
When good, I think, then quick and pat, 
That something says, "My child, do that:" 
When I too near the stream would go, 
So pleased to see the waters flow, 
 
That something says, without a sound, 
"Take care, dear child, you may be drown`d: " 
And for the poor whene`er I grieve,
That something says, "A penny give." 

Thus something very near must be, 
Although invisible to me; 
Whate`er I do, it sees me still: 
O then, good Spirit, guide my will.
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