Of murdered millions strike a chilling | No, William, no, I would not live again TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, INQUIRING IF I WOULD LIVE OVER MY YOUTH AGAIN. Do I regret the past? In the warm joyaunce of the summer sun The changeful April day. Why is it pleasant then to sit and talk And tells how often in his wanderings Through what fair scenes his charmed feet have trod. But ever when he tells of perils past, And troubles now no more, His eyes most sparkle, and a readier joy Flows rapid to his heart. The morning hours of life; The slave of hope and fear; To me the present gives All cause for full content :The future, it is now the cheerful noon, And on the sunny-smiling fields I gaze With eyes alive to joy; When the dark night descends, My weary lids I willingly shall close, Again to wake in light. TO A BEE. THOU wert out betimes, thou busy busy bee ! As abroad I took my early way, Before the cow from her resting place Had risen up and left her trace On the meadow, with dew so gray, I saw thee, thou busy busy bee. Thou wert working late, thou busy busy bee! After the fall of the cistus flower, I heard thee last, as I saw thee first; I heard thee, thou busy busy bee. Thou art a miser, thou busy busy bee! is spent, What thy winter will never enjoy; Wise lesson this for me, thou busy busy bee! Little dost thou think, thou busy busy bee! What is the end of thy toil. When the latest flowers of the ivy are THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, And by him sported on the green AND HOW HE GAINED THEM. man cried, The few locks that are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, Now tell me the reason, I pray. II. She saw her brother Peterkin In playing there, had found; III. Old Kaspar took it from the boy, 'Tis some poor fellow's skull, said he, IV. I find them in the garden, for There's many here about, The ploughshare turns them out; V. Now tell us what 'twas all about, With wonder-waiting eyes; VI. It was the English, Kaspar cried, I could not well make out. VII. My father lived at Blenheim then, So with his wife and child he fled, VIII. With fire and sword the country round And new-born infant, died. But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory. IX. They say it was a shocking sight, But things like that, you know, must be Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, XI. And everybody praised the Duke MERCIFUL INFLICTIONS. REPINE not, O my son! That Heaven hath chastened thee. Be hold this vine, Repine not, O my son! In wisdom and in mercy Heaven inflicts, Like a wise leech, its painful remedies. THE VOYAGE OF THALABA THEN did the damsel speak again, Wilt thou go on with me?- The moon is bright, the sea is calm, Across the ocean waves; The moon is sunk, a dusky grey Is rising o'er the sea! I found it a wild tree, whose wanton The little boat rides rapidly;— strength Hast swoln into irregular twigs And bold excrescences, And spent itself in leaves and little rings, So in the flourish of its outwardness But when I pruned the tree, Then it grew temperate in its vain expense of useless leaves, and knotted, as thou seest, Into these full, clear clusters, to repay The hand that wisely wounded it. Is that a cloud that skirts the sea! The little boat rides rapidly, And now so near, they see |