There was a young person whose history
Was always considered a mystery.
She sate in a ditch,
Although no one knew which,
And composed a small treatise on history.
by Herman Melville
Yon black man-of-war hawk that wheels in the light
O'er the black ship's white sky-s'l, sunned cloud to the sight,
Have we low-flyers wings to ascend to his height?