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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 ?
" -Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, “ Conversing as I may, “ I sit upon this old grey stone, " And dream my time away."
THE TABLES TURNED;
an evening scene, on the same subject.
Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,
The sun above the mountain's head,
Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife,
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
She has a world of ready wealth,
One impulse from a vernal wood
Sweet is, the lore which nature brings;
Enough of science and of art;
OLD MAN TRAVELLING;
animal tranquillity and decay,
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