• With Nature never do they wage A happy youth, and their old age 'But we are press'd by heavy laws; And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore. 'If there be one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own,— It is the man of mirth. 'My days, my friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none Am I enough beloved.' 'Now both himself and me he wrongs, The man who thus complains! I live and sing my idle songs 'And, Matthew, for thy children dead I'll be a son to thee !' At this he grasp'd my hand and said, 'Alas! that cannot be.' We rose up from the fountain-side; And, ere we came to Leonard's rock, W. WORDSWORTH. 45 50 55 60 65 70 283 THE RIVER OF LIFE The more we live, more brief appear The gladsome current of our youth, 5 Steals lingering like a river smooth But as the careworn cheek grows wan, Ye stars, that measure life to man, 10 When joys have lost their bloom and breath, Why, as we reach the Falls of death, It may be strange-yet who would change When one by one our friends have gone Heaven gives our years of fading strength And those of youth, a seeming length, 284 T. CAMPBELL. THE HUMAN SEASONS Four seasons fill the measure of the year; 15 20 20 He has his Summer, when luxuriously 5 Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves To ruminate, and by such dreaming nigh His nearest unto heaven: quiet coves His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings He furleth close; contented so to look On mists in idleness-to let fair things Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook : He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, Or else he would forgo his mortal nature. J. KEATS. 10 285 A LAMENT O World! O Life! O Time! Trembling at that where I had stood before ; When will return the glory of your prime ? No more-Oh, never more! Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight : Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight No more-Oh, never more! 286 P. B. SHELLEY. My heart leaps up when I behold So was it when my life began, Or let me die ! The Child is father of the Man : 5 10 5 287 ODE ON INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream Apparell'd in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. By night or day, 5 The things which I have seen I now can see no more. The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose; The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, 10 15 That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth. Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, To me alone there came a thought of grief: And I again am strong. 20 24 The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,— No more shall grief of mine the season wrong: I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity, 30 And with the heart of May Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Ye blesséd Creatures, I have heard the call The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all. While Earth herself is adorning And the children are culling In a thousand valleys far and wide A single field which I have look'd upon, Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; And cometh from afar ; But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close 35 40 45 39 50 55 60 65 |