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THE TABLES TURNED;
EVENING SCENE, on the same Subject.
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
There's more of wisdom in it.
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 cheerfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Misshapes 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.
ANIMAL TRANQUILLITY and DECAY,
The little hedge-row birds
That peck along the road, regard him not.
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
With envy, what the Old Man hardly feels.
-I asked him whither he was bound, and what
The object of his journey he replied
That he was going many miles to take
A last leave of his Son, a Mariner,
Who from a sea-fight had been brought to Fal
And there was dying in an hospital.