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Who sits at his own door, and, like the 160
Feeds in the sunshine; the robust and
120 The prosperous and unthinking, they who live
Sheltered, and flourish in a little grove Of their own kindred;-all behold in him A silent monitor, which on their minds Must needs impress a transitory thought 125 Of self-congratulation, to the heart
Of each recalling his peculiar boons,
Though he to no one give the fortitude
Their kindred, and the children of their blood.
Praise be to such, and to their slumbers peace!
-But of the poor man ask, the abject poor;
Go, and demand of him, if there be here
150 Themselves, the fathers and the dealers-out
As needed kindness, for this single cause,
My neighbor, when with punctual care, each week,
Duly as Friday comes, though pressed herself
By her own wants, she from her store of meal
Takes one unsparing handful for the scrip
Then let him pass, a blessing on his head! And while in that vast solitude to which The tide of things has borne him, he
165 To breathe and live but for himself alone,
Has hung around him: and, while life is his,
Still let him prompt the unlettered villagers 170 To tender offices and pensive thoughts.
-Then let him pass, a blessing on his head!
The freshness of the valleys; let his blood 15 Through beds of matted fern, and tangled
Struggle with frosty air and winter snows; 175 And let the chartered1 wind that sweeps
Beat his gray locks against his withered face.
Reverence the hope whose vital anxiousness Gives the last human interest to his heart. May never House, misnamed of Industry,2 180 Make him a captive!-for that pent-up din,
Beneath the trees, or on a grassy bank Of highway side, and with the little birds 195 Share his chance-gathered meal; and, finally,
As in the eye of Nature he has lived,
Those life-consuming sounds that clog
Be his the natural silence of old age!
185 The pleasant melody of woodland birds.
A temper known to those who, after long
Find a free entrance to their languid orbs, And let him, where and when he will, sit down
Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook
Of devastation; but the hazels rose
A virgin scene!-A little while I stood, Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and with wise restraint
The violets of five seasons reappear And fade, unseen by any human eye; Where fairy water-breaks' do murmur on Forever; and I saw the sparkling foam, 35 And-with my cheek on one of those green stones
That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees,
Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep
I heard the murmur and the, murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
40 Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
45 And merciless ravage: and the shady nook
50 Ere from the mutilated bower I turned
Then, dearest maiden, move along these shades
55 In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand Touch-for there is a spirit in the woods. 1 ripples
In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
My horse moved on; hoof after hoof
"O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!"'
SHE DWELT AMONG THE
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
A maid whom there were none to praise
5 A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye! -Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
"Myself will to my darling be
25 What fond and wayward thoughts will slide 10 In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Into a lover's head!
Shall feel an overseeing power
I travelled among unknown men,
5 'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Among thy mountains did I feel
And she I cherished turned her wheel
Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed,
THREE YEARS SHE GREW IN SUN
Three years she grew in sun and shower,