An Evening Scene, On the Same Subject
Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?
The sun above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom
And hark! How blithe the throstle
He, too, is no mean preacher;
Come forth into the light of things,
be your Teacher.
She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless -
wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.
One impulse from a vernal
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things -
We murder to dissect
Enough of Science
and of Art
Close up these barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.