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What more he said I cannot tell.
The stream came thundering down the dell, And galloped loud and fast;
I listened, nor aught else could hear,
The Briar quaked-and much I fear,
The OAK and the BROOM,
His simple truths did Andrew glean
Beside the babbling rills;
A careful student he had been
Among the woods and hills.
One winter's night, when through the Trees
The wind was thundering, on his knees
His youngest born did Andrew hold:
And while the rest, a ruddy quire,
I saw a crag, a lofty stone
Out of its head an Oak had grown,
A Broom out of its feet.
The time was March, a cheerful noon
The thaw-wind with the breath of June
His neighbour thus addressed:
"Eight weary weeks, through rock and clay,
Along this mountain's edge
The Frost hath wrought both night and day,
Wedge driving after wedge.
Look up! and think, above your head
Last night I heard a crash-'tis true,
And yet, just three years back-no more
You had a strange escape.
Down from yon Cliff a fragment broke,
This pond'rous Block was caught by me,
'Tis hanging to this day!
"The Thing had better been asleep,
Or Breeze, or Bird, or Dog, or Sheep,
For you and your green twigs decoy
To come and slumber in your bower;
And, trust me, on some sultry noon,
and he, Heaven knows how soon!
Will perish in one hour.
"From me this friendly warning take"The Broom began to doze,
And thus to keep herself awake
Did gently interpose :
My thanks for your discourse are due; That it is true, and more than true,
I know, and I have known it long;
"Disasters, do the best we can, Will reach both great and small;
And he is oft the wisest man,
Who is not wise at all.
For me, why should I wish to roam ?
This spot is my paternal home,
It is my pleasant Heritage;
My Father many a happy year
Here spread his careless blossoms, here
Attained a good old age.