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may live




to do



To see a better day. At eighty-four

The shepherd ended here; and Luke I still am strong and hale; do thou thy

stooped down, part;

390 And, as his father had requested, laid I will do mine. - I will begin again The first stone of the sheepfold. At the With many tasks that were resigned to sight thee:

The old man's grief broke from him; to Up to the heights, and in among

the his heart storms,

He pressed his son, he kissed him and Will I without thee go again, and do

wept; All works which I

And to the house together they returned. alone,

Hushed was that house in peace, or Before I knew thy face. Heaven bless seeming peace, thee, boy!

Ere the night fell: — with morrow's dawn Thy heart these two weeks has been beat

the boy ing fast

Began his journey, and when he had With many hopes; it should be so yes

reached -yes

The public way, he pụt on a bold face; I knew that thou could'st never have a And all the neighbors, as he passed their wish

doors, To leave me, Luke: thou hast been bound Came forth with wishes and with farewell

prayers, Only by links of love: when thou art That followed him till he was out of gone,

sight. What will be left to us! But, I forget My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone, A good report did from their kinsman As I requested; and hereafter, Luke,

come, When thou art gone away, should evil Of Luke and his well-doing: and the boy men

Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous Be thy companions, think of me, my son, news, And of this moment; hither turn thy | Which, as the housewife phrased it, were thoughts,

throughout And God will strengthen thee: amid all “The prettiest letters that fear

seen.” And all temptation, Luke. I pray that Both parents read them with rejoicing thou


to me







So, many months passed on: and once

again The shepherd went about his daily work With confident and cheerful thoughts; and




He at the building of this sheepfold

wrought, And left the work unfinished when he

died. Three years, or little more, did Isabel Survive her husband: at her death the

estate Was sold, and went into a stranger's

hand. The cottage which was named the EVE

NING STAR Is gone - the ploughshare has been

through the ground On which it stood; great changes have

been wrought In all the neighborhood: - yet the oak is

left That grew beside their door; and the re

mains Of the unfinished sheepfold may be seen Beside the boisterous brook of Greenhead




Sometimes when he could find a leisure

hour He to that valley took his way, and there Wrought at the sheepfold. Meantime

Luke began To slacken in his duty; and, at length, He in the dissolute city gave himself To evil courses: ignominy and shame 445 Fell on him, so that he was driven at last To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas. There is a comfort in the strength of

love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break the

heart: I have conversed with more than one who

well Remember the old man, and what he was Years after he had heard this heavy news. His bodily frame had been from youth to age

unusual strength. Among the rocks He went, and still looked up to sun and

cloud, And listened to the wind; and, as before, Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, And for the land, his small inheritance. And to that hollow dell from time to

time Did he repair, to build the fold of which His Aock had need. 'Tis not forgotten yet The pity which was then in every heart For the old man — and 'tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither

went, And never lifed up a single stone. There, by the sheepfold, sometimes was

he seen Sitting alone, or with his faithful dog, Then old, beside him, lying at his feet. The length of full seven years, from time

to time,




Of an




There was

a roaring in the wind all night; The rain came heavily and fell in Aloods; But now the sun is rising calm and bright; The birds are singing in the distant

woods; Over his own sweet voice the stock-dove broods;

5 The jay makes answer as the magpie

chatters; And all the air is filled with pleasant

noise of waters.



All things that love the sun are out of

doors; The sky rejoices in the morning's birth; The grass is bright with rain-drops; — on

the moors




The hare is running races in her mirth; To genial faith, still rich in genial good; And with her feet she from the plashy But how he expect that others earth


40 Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun, Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Runs with her all the way, wherever she Love him, who for himself will take no

heed at all?

doth run.

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I heard the sky-lark warbling in the sky;
And I bethought me of the playful hare: 30
Even such a happy child of earth am I;
Even as these blissful creatures do I

Far from the world I walk, and from all

But there may come another day to me
Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and pov-

My whole life I have lived in pleasant

As if life's business were a summer mood;
As if all needful things would come un-


Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a

shelf Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun



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His body was bent double, feet and head Choice word and measured phrase, above Coming together in life's pilgrimage;

the reach As if some dire constraint of pain, or Of ordinary men; a stately speech; rage

Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use, Of sickness felt by him in times long past, Religious men, who give to God and man A more than human weight upon his frame their dues. had cast.

He told, that to these waters he had come Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale To gather leeches, being old and poor: 100 face,

Employment hazardous and wearisome! Upon a long grey staff of shaven wood: And he had many hardships to endure: And, still as I drew near with gentle pace,

From pond to pond he roamed, from moor

to moor; Upon the margin of that moorish flood Motionless as a cloud the old

Housing, with God's good help, by choice stood,

or chance, That heareth not the loud winds when And in this way he gained an honest main

they call And moveth all together, if it move at all.

The old man still stood talking by my


But now his voice to was like a At length, himself unsettling, he the pond Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look

Scarce heard; nor word from word could Upon the muddy water, which he conned,

I divide; As if he had been reading in a book:

And the whole body of the man did seem And now a stranger's privilege I took;

Like one whom I had met with in a And, drawing to his side, to him did say, “This morning gives us promise of a


Or like a man from some far region sent, glorious day.”

To give me human strength, by apt admon

ishment. A gentle answer did the old man make, 85 In courteous speech which forth he slowly | My former thoughts returned: the fear drew:

that kills; And with him further words I thus be

And hope that is unwilling to be fed; spake,

Cold, pain, and labor, and all fleshly "What occupation do you there pursue? This is a lonesome place for one like

And mighty poets in their misery dead. you."

Perplexed, and longing to be comforted, Ere he replied, a Aash of mild surprise 90

My question eagerly did I renew, Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid

“How is it that you live, and what is it eyes.









you do?"



His words came feebly, from a feeble

chest, But each in solemn order followed each, With something of a lofty utterance


He with a smile did then his words repeat;

120 And said, that, gathering leeches, far and

wide He travelled; stirring thus about his feet

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September 3, 1802 Earth has not anything to show more

fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass

by A sight so touching in its majesty: This city now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, s Ships, towers, domes, theatres and tem

ples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smoke

less air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendor, valley, rock, or

hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still !







And soon

with this he other matter blended, Cheerfully uttered, with demeanor

kind, But stately in the main; and when he

ended, I could have laughed myself to scorn to

find In that decrepit man so firm a mind. "God," said I, “be my help and stay se

cure; I'll think of the leech-gatherer on the

lonely moor!”

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the






My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

Listen! the mighty being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder - everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with

me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn

thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the

year; And worship'st at the temple's inner

shrine, God being with thee when we know it



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