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But now here's neither grass nor pleasant shade;
Gray-headed Shepherd, thou hast spoken well ; Small difference lies between thy creed and mine: This Beast not unobserved by Nature fell; His death was mourned by sympathy divine.
The Being, that is in the clouds and air,
groves, Maintains a deep and reverential care For them the quiet creatures whom he loves.
The Pleasure-house is dust:-behind, before,
She leaves these objects to a slow decay,
One lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide,
There was a Boy, ye knew him well,
Cliffs And Islands of Winander! many a time, At evening, when the stars had just begun To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alone, Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake; And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth Uplifted, he, as through an instrument, Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls That they might ariswer him. And they would shout Across the watery vale, and shout aga'n Responsive to his call, with quivering peals, And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud Redoubled and redoubled ; concourse wild Of mirth and jocund din! And, when it chanced
pauses of deep silence mocked his skill, Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain torrents; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received Into the bosom of the steady lake.
This Boy was taken from his Mates, and died