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TO A SKY-LARK.
UP with me! up with me into the clouds!
With clouds and sky about thee ringing,
That spot which seems so to thy mind!
Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven,
I, with my fate contented, will plod on,
And hope for higher raptures, when Life's day is done.
TO A SEXTON.
LET thy wheel-barrow alone
In thy Bone-house bone on bone?
In a field of battle made,
Where three thousand skulls are laid;
These died in peace each with the other,
Father, Sister, Friend, and Brother.
Mark the spot to which I point!
From this platform, eight feet square,
Andrew's whole fire-side is there.
Here, alone, before thine eyes,
Simon's sickly Daughter lies,
From weakness now, and pain defended,
Whom he twenty winters tended.
Look but at the gardener's pride-
Roses, Lilies, side by side,
By the heart of Man, his tears,
By his hopes and by his fears,
Thus then, each to other dear,
Let them all in quiet lie,
Andrew there, and Susan here,
Neighbours in mortality.
And, should I live through sun and rain
WHO fancied what a pretty sight
Was it the humour of a Child?
Or rather of some love-sick Maid,
Whose brows, the day that she was styled
'twas whispered, The device
To each and all might well belong :
It is the Spirit of Paradise
That prompts such work, a Spirit strong,
That gives to all the self-same bent
Where life is wise and innocent.
FOR THE WANDERING JEW.
THOUGH the torrents from their fountains
Roar down many a craggy steep,
Yet they find among the mountains
Clouds that love through air to hasten,
Helmet-like themselves will fasten
On the heads of towering hills.
What, if through the frozen centre
In some nook of chosen ground.