Has seduced the poor fool from his winter retreat, And he creeps to the edge of my stove. Alas! how he fumbles about the domains He cannot find out in what track he must crawl, Stock-still there he stands, like a traveller bemazed! The best of his skill he has tried; His feelers, methinks, I can see him put forth To the east and the west, to the south and the north, But he finds neither guide-post nor guide. His spindles sink under him, foot, leg, and thigh! His eyesight and hearing are lost; Between life and death his blood freezes and thaws; And his two pretty pinions of blue dusky gauze Are glued to his sides by the frost. No brother, no mate has he near him, - while room, And woodbines were hanging above. Yet, God is my witness, thou small, helpless Thing! Thy life I would gladly sustain Till summer come up from the south, and, with crowds Of thy brethren, a march thou shouldst sound through the clouds, And back to the forests again! VIII. A POET'S EPITAPH. ART thou a Statist, in the van A Lawyer art thou? - draw not nigh! Art thou a Man of purplé cheer? 1799. Or art thou one of gallant pride, Wrapt closely in thy sensual fleece, A Moralist perchance appears; Led, Heaven knows how! to this poor sod: One to whose smooth-rubbed soul can cling Nor form, nor feeling, great or small; An intellectual All-in-all! Shut close the door; press down the latch; Sleep in thy intellectual crust; Nor lose ten tickings of thy watch Near this unprofitable dust. But who is he, with modest looks, He is retired as noontide dew, The outward shows of sky and earth, In common things that round us lie That broods and sleeps on his own heart. But he is weak; both Man and Boy, Hath been an idler in the land, The things which others understand. Come hither in thy hour of strength; 1799. IX. TO THE DAISY. BRIGHT Flower! whose home is everywhere, And all the long year through, the heir Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see Is it that Man is soon deprest? A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest, Or on his reason, And thou wouldst teach him how to find A hope for times that are unkind Thou wander'st the wide world about, Meek, yielding to the occasion's call, Thy function apostolical In peace fulfilling. |