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III.

Troubled long with warring notions,
Long impatient of thy rod,
I resign my soul's emotions,
Unto Thee, mysterious God!

What avails the kindly shelter
Yielded by this craggy rent,
If my spirit toss and welter,
On the waves of discontent?

Parching Summer hath no warrant
To consume this crystal Well;
Rains, that make each rill a torrent,
Neither sully it nor swell.

Thus, dishonouring not her station,
Would my Life present to thee,
Gracious God, the poor oblation
Of divine tranquillity!

IV.

Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,
Deceitfully goes forth the morn;
Not seldom evening in the west
Sinks smilingly forsworn.

The smoothest seas will sometimes prove,
To the confiding bark untrue;
And, if she trust the stars above,
They can be treacherous too.

The umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread
Full oft, when storms the welkin rend,
Draws lightning down upon the head
It promised to defend.

But Thou art true, incarnate Lord,
Who didst vouchsafe for man to die;

Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word
No change can falsify!

1818.

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SMALL service is true service while it lasts!

Of humblest friends, bright creature, scorn not one, The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts,

Protects the lingering dew-drop from the Sun.

II.

"MY HEART LEAPS UP."

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky.

So was it when my life began ;

So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!

The child is father of the man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

III.

TO A YOUNG LADY

WHO HAD BEEN REPROACHED FOR TAKING
LONG WALKS IN THE COUNTRY.

DEAR child of Nature, let them rail!
There is a nest in a green dale,

A harbour and a hold,

Where thou, a wife and friend, shalt see

Thy own delightful days, and be

A light to young and old.

1834.

1802.

1805.

There healthy as a shepherd-boy,
And treading among flowers of joy
Which at no season fade,

Thou, while thy babes around thee cling,
Shalt show us how divine a thing
A woman may be made.

Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die,
Nor leave thee, when gray hairs are nigh,
A melancholy slave;

But an old age serene and bright,

And lovely as a Lapland night,
Shall lead thee to thy grave.

IV.

FROM THE TABLES TURNED.

SWEET is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect

Misshapes 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.

V.

FROM EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY.

THE eye, it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will.

Nor less I deem that there are powers

Which of themselves our minds impress;

That we can feed this mind of ours

In a wise passiveness.

Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum
Of things forever speaking,
That nothing of itself will come,
But we must still be seeking?

1798.

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