THE TABLES TURNED; AN EVENING SE, ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,
Why all this toil and trouble?
Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or surely youll grow double.
The sun above the mountains head,
A freshening lustre mellow,
Through all the long green ?elds has spread,
His ?rst sweet evening yellow.
Books! tis a dull and endless strife,
e, hear the woodland li,
How sweet his musiy life
Theres more of wisdom in it.
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
And he is no mean preacher;
e forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.
She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds as to bless--
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by chearfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teaore of man;
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages .
Sweet is the lore whiature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things;
--We murder to dissect.
Enough of sd of art;
Close up these barren leaves;
e forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.