84. THE POPLAR FIELD. THE poplars are felled, farewell to the shade, Twelve years have elapsed, since I last took a view And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade. The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat; The change both my heart and my fancy employs, My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I find, That world affords, or grows by kind: Cowper. M Content I live-this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice— And hasty climbers oft do fall; Mishap doth threaten most of all; I grudge not at another's gain; I fear no foe-I scorn no friend: Some have too much, yet still they crave; They poor, I rich: they beg, I give: I wish not what I have at will: I wander not to seek for more: I like the plain; I climb no hill: In greatest storm I sit on shore, And laugh at those that toil in vain, To get what must be lost again. This is my choice; for why-I find No wealth is like a quiet mind. Ancient Songs. I REMEMBER, I remember, The little window, where the sun He never came a wink too soon, I remember, I remember, The laburnum on his birthday: The tree is living yet! I remember, I remember, Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh, To swallows on the wing. My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now; And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow! I remember, I remember, The fir-trees, dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: But now, 'tis little joy To know I'm further off from heaven Than when I was a boy. Hood. 87. WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER ? WHAT is that, Mother?-The lark, my child! And is up and away, with the dew on his breast, Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays, In friendship as faithful, as constant in love. Doane. 88. THE MILLER OF THE DEE. THERE dwelt a miller hale and bold, Beside the river Dee; He work'd and sang from morn to night, No lark more blithe than he; And this the burden of his song For ever used to be, "I envy nobody: no not I, "And nobody envies me!". "Thou'rt wrong my friend!" said old King Hal, "Thou'rt wrong as wrong can be; "For could my heart be light as thine, "I'd gladly change with thee. "And tell me now what makes thee sing "With voice so loud and free, "While I am sad, though I'm the King, "Beside the river Dee." The miller smiled and doff'd his cap: 66 'I earn my bread," quoth he; "I love my wife, I love my friend, “I love my children three; "I owe no penny I cannot pay; "I thank the river Dee, "That turns the mill that grinds the corn, "To feed my babes and me." "Good friend," said Hal, and sigh'd the while, "Farewell! and happy be: "But say no more, if thou'dst be true, "That no one envies thee. |