Spirits who suffered at that hour For freedom and for faith! Ye saw your country bent beneath the yoke, And like a giant from his sleep Ye saw when France awoke; Ye saw the people burst their double chain, WESTBURY, 1798. THE HOLLY-TREE. 1. O READER! hast thou ever stood to see The eye that contemplates it well perceives Ordered by an Intelligence so wise As might confound the Atheist's sophistries. 2. Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen, No grazing cattle through their prickly round But, as they grow where nothing is to fear, 3. I love to view these things with curious eyes, And in this wisdom of the Holly-tree Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme, 4. Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear To those who on my leisure would intrude Gentle at home amid my friends I'd be, 5. And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be 6. And as, when all the summer trees are seen So bright and green, The Holly-leaves a sober hue display Less bright than they, But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree? 7. So serious should my youth appear among So would I seem, amid the young and More grave than they, That in my age as cheerful I might be gay, THE EBB-TIDE. SLOWLY thy flowing tide Came in, old Avon! Scarcely did mine eyes, As watchfully I roamed thy greenwood-side, Perceive its gentle rise. With many a stroke and strong The laboring boatmen upward plied their oars; Yet little way they made, though laboring long Between thy winding shores. Now down thine ebbing tide The unlabored boat falls rapidly along; And sings an idle song. VOL. II. Now o'er the rocks, that lay So silent late, the shallow current roars; Fast flow thy waters on their seaward way, Avon! I gaze, and know The lesson emblemed in thy varying way: Kingdoms which long have stood, And slow to strength and power attained at last, Thus from the summit of high Fortune's flood Time's tardy course to manhood's envied stage; Alas, how hurryingly the ebbing years Then hasten to old age! WESTBURY, 1799. THE COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR. AND wherefore do the Poor complain?" The Rich Man asked of me: "Come walk abroad with me," I said, "And I will answer thee.” 'Twas evening, and the frozen streets And we were wrapt and coated well, And yet we were a-cold. We met an old, bareheaded man; I asked him what he did abroad The cold was keen indeed, he said; We met a young, barefooted child, She said her father was at home, And therefore was it she was sent Abroad to beg for bread. We saw a woman sitting down Upon a stone to rest; She had a baby at her back, And another at her breast. I asked her why she loitered there When the night-wind was so chill: |