A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

(avery) #1

333 ~ o• ~ORB, .uro ~us.


It ia a kind or idleneu, 1 boy j
.And I am aaid to be an idle man-
And it i.e W1f7 Uua. I love to go
Out in the pl~ aun, NJd let m1_ eJe
1\eet OD the bumaD f&cea that p&.-bJ 1
EAch with ita gay or buay int.treet;
And then I muee upon their JD~ &lld ~
llany a l&IIIIOn in their ~v.l cut ;
.And 10 gJ'OW kind of~ aDd feel & loY~
Stirring my aoul to every liviog tla.img;
And my low prayer has more humility •
.And I ai.ok lightlier to m1 drw.ma.

fDltaiu ~ike Jw-fntltr.
Yox eot.ta«er, who weavee at her owa ~r,
PiUow ancfbobbine all her little etol'8;
Con•nt though mean, and eheerlul if a&t py,
Shuftling her tbreade about the lin-long dG7 1
Just earna • ae&uty pittance, &od a.t night
Liea dowtl eecnre, ller beM't Mid poeket Hpt;
She, ~or her hum~ sphere by '8&~ fit,
Rite little undenltandmg ar~d ao wit;
Reeeivea DO praise ; but tboagb lter lot ·be .utlb-·
(Toi.18ome ADd indigent) ehe rendera much ;
.lust knows, and k:Uowe no more, her .Bible true-
A truth the brllliaut Frenchman never knew;
.And in that charter reads, with sparkling eyes
Her title to a treasure in the akies.
Oh, happy peaaeot I Oh, uubappy bard.!
1Iia the DUl'e tiDaeJ. ber'e the rioa nward ;
He praised. .perhape for ages y.et to OOIPot,
She never hWd or b;.ir a wile from ilAme.;
He loet ill erroN his vain heart pl'efen,
She safe in the aimpli~ity of aer'a. COWPX&.

«kt .f'ulb ~IIJ~·


&soLD her, single io the 6eld,
You eolitar1 HiglilADd ~I
Reaping and aillgiog by herself;
Stop here, or _geot.l1 J16M l
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