The Oil Merchant's Ass

Once on a time, an Ass,--
An Oilman's hack,--
Bearing upon his back
A huge skin filled with oil,
With foot o'er-worn by toil,
Into his stable sought to pass;
But, stumbling, struck his nose
The cruellest of blows
Upon the door's projecting clamp.
"Now, is it not a shame,"--
Poor Donkey did exclaim,--
"That I, who every day
Carry tuns of oil, my way
Into my own stable cannot find,
More than if I were stone-blind,
For want of one poor lamp?"

* * * * *

Much I fear, that those who glory
In buying books they never read,
Fare as ill,--
And deserve no more;--but, if they will
Grow wiser, let them heed this story.