Here you will find the Poem The Childs Monitor of poet Ann Taylor
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.
