Thou wanderest the wide world about, Meek, yielding to the occasion's call, Thy function apostolical In peace fulfilling. XII. TO A SKY-LARK. Up with me! up with me into the clouds! With all the heavens about thee ringing, That spot which seems so to thy mind! I have walked through wildernesses dreary, And to-day my heart is weary; Had I now the wings of a Faery, Up to thee would I fly. There is madness about thee, and joy divine Up with me, up with me, high and high, Joyous as Morning, Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest, for thy love and thy rest: And, though little troubled with sloth, To be such a Traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver! With a soul as strong as a mountain River, Hearing thee, or else some other, I on the earth will go plodding on, By myself, cheerfully, till the day is done. XIII. TO A SEXTON. LET thy wheel-barrow alone— In thy Bone-house bone on bone? "Tis already like a hill In a field of battle made, Where three thousand skulls are laid. These died in peace each with the other, Father, Sister, Friend, and Brother. Mark the spot to which I point! From this platform eight feet square Take not even a finger-joint: Andrew's whole fire-side is there. Here, alone, before thine eyes, Simon's sickly Daughter lies, From weakness, now, and pain defended, Whom he twenty winters tended. Look but at the gardener's pride How he glories, when he sees. Roses, Lilies, side by side, Violets in families! By the heart of Man, his tears, By his hopes and by his fears, Thou, old Grey-beard! art the Warden Of a far superior garden. Thus then, each to other dear, Let them all in quiet lie, Andrew there and Susan here, And, should I live through sun and rain Let one grave hold the Lov'd and Lover! |