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ONE lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee,
Of toil unsever'd from tranquillity;
Of labour, that in lasting fruit outgrows
Yes, while on earth a thousand discords ring, Man's senseless uproar mingling with his toil, Still do thy quiet ministers move on,
Their glorious tasks in silence perfecting;
To a Friend.
WHO prop, thou ask'st, in these bad days, my mind?-
Much he, whose friendship I not long since won,
Taught Arrian, when Vespasian's brutal son
Clear'd Rome of what most shamed him. But be his
My special thanks, whose even-balanced soul,
Who saw life steadily, and saw it whole;
OTHERS abide our question. Thou art free.
Planting his stedfast footsteps in the sea,