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Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,
When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.
Oft, in the sunless April day,
Thy early smile has stayed my walk; But midst the gorgeous blooms of May, passed thee on thy humble stalk.
So they, who climb to wealth, forget
I copied them—but I regret
That I should ape the ways of pride.
And when again the genial hour
INSCRIPTION FOR THE ENTRANCE TO A WOOD
STRANGER, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade
And musical with birds, that sing and sport
The squirrel, with raised paws and form erect,
Try their thin wings and dance in the warm beam
That sucks its sweets. The massy rocks themselves,
Or bridge the sunken brook, and their dark roots,
Breathe fixed tranquillity. The rivulet
Soon as the glazed and gleaming snow Reflects the day-dawn cold and clear,
The hunter of the west must go
In depth of woods to seek the deer.
His rifle on his shoulder placed,
His stores of death arranged with skill, His moccasins and snow-shoes laced,Why lingers he beside the hill?
Far, in the dim and doubtful light,
Where woody slopes a valley leave, He sees what none but lover might, The dwelling of his Genevieve.
And oft he turns his truant eye,
And pauses oft, and lingers near; But when he marks the reddening sky, He bounds away to hunt the deer.
TO A WATERFOWL.
WHITHER, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?
Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
Seek'st thou the plashy brink
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side?
There is a Power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,-
Lone wandering, but not lost.