« ForrigeFortsæt »
THE TABLES TURNED;
EVENING SCENE, on the same Subject.
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks ;
The sun, above the mountain's head,
Books ! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland Linnet,
There's more of wisdom in it.
And hark! how blithe the Throstle sings !
She has a world of ready wealth,
One impulse from a vernal wood
man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings ;
Enough of Science and of Art;
these barren leaves ; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
ANIMAL TRANQUILLITY and DECAY,
The little hedge-row birds That peck along the road, regard him not. He travels on, and in his face, his step, His gait, is one expression; every limb, His look and bending figure, all bespeak A man who does not move with pain, but moves With thought.—He is insensibly subdued To settled quiet: he is one by whom All effort seems forgotten; one to whom Long patience hath such mild composure given, That patience now doth seem a thing of which He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect, that the young behold