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“Think you, mid all this mighty sum
“Of things for ever speaking,
“That nothing of itself will come,
“But we must still be seeking 2

“—Then ask not wherefore, here, alone,
“Conversing as I may,
“I sit upon this old grey stone,
“And dream my time away.”


An EVENING SCENE, on the same Subjea.

Up! up ! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble
Up! up ! my Friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you'll grow double.

The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.

Books ' 'tis a dull and endless strife :
Come, hear the woodland Linnet,
How sweet his music; on my life

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And hark' how blithe the Throstle sings
And he is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless—
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by chearfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man ;
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

Syeet is the lore which nature brings; Our meddling intelle&t

- Mishapes the beauteous forms of things; —we murder to dissect.

Enough of science and of art;
Close up these barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart

That watches and receives.



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 has such mild composure given, That patience now doth seem a thing, of which He hath no need. He is by nature led


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