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Matthew Prior - A Simile
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       Dear Thomas, didst thou never pop
    Thy head into a tin-man`s shop?
    There, Thomas, didst thou never see
    (`Tis but by way of simile)
    A squirrel spend his little rage
    In jumping round a rolling cage?
    The cage, as either side turn`d up,
    Striking a ring of bells a-top?—

       Mov`d in the orb, pleas`d with the chimes,
   The foolish creature thinks he climbs:
   But here or there, turn wood or wire,
   He never gets two inches higher.

      So fares it with those merry blades,
   That frisk it under Pindus` shades.
   In noble songs, and lofty odes,
   They tread on stars, and talk with gods;
   Still dancing in an airy round,
   Still pleas`d with their own verses` sound;
   Brought back, how fast soe`er they go,
   Always aspiring, always low.
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