186

THE TABLES TURNED;
AN 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.

187

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 chearfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man ;
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

188

Sweet is the lore which nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mishapes 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.