And from the blessed power that rolls About, below, above, We'll frame the measure of our souls: Then come, my Sister! come, I pray, With speed put on your woodland dress; - And bring no book: for this one day We'll give to idleness. IX. TO A YOUNG LADY, WHO HAD BEEN REPROACHED FOR TAKING LONG WALKS IN THE COUNTRY. DEAR Child of Nature, let them rail! There is a nest in a green dale, A harbour and a hold, Where thou, a Wife and Friend, shalt see A light to young and old. There, healthy as a Shepherd-boy, And treading among flowers of joy, That at no season fade, Thou, while thy Babes around thee cling, Shalt shew us how divine a thing A Woman may be made. Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die, Nor leave thee when grey-hairs are nigh But an old age serene and bright, Shall lead thee to thy grave. X. LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. I HEARD a thousand blended notes, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower The birds around me hopped and played; But the least motion which they made, The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can, From Heaven if this belief be sent, What man has made of man? XI. SIMON LEE, THE OLD HUNTSMAN, WITH AN INCIDENT IN WHICH HE WAS CONCERNED. In the sweet shire of Cardigan, Worn out by hunting feats bereft By time of friends and kindred, see! In liveried poverty. His Master's dead, and no one now Dwells in the Hall of Ivor; Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead; He is the sole survivor. |