That you might look at me and say, IX. "The Butterfly, all green and gold, Here in my blossoms to behold When grass is chill with rain or dew, X. "Her voice was blithe, her heart was light; The Broom might have pursued Her speech, until the stars of night Their journey had renewed; But in the branches of the Oak Two ravens now began to croak XI. "One night, my Children! from the north There came a furious blast; 1 At break of day I ventured forth, The storm had fallen upon the Oak The little careless Broom was left To live for many a day." VI. 1800. TO A SEXTON. LET thy wheelbarrow 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 fireside is there. Here, alone, before thine eyes, Simon's sickly daughter lies, From weakness now and pain defended, Look but at the gardener's pride, By the heart of Man, his tears, Thus then, each to other dear, Let them all in quiet lie, Andrew there, and Susan here, Neighbors in mortality. And should I live through sun and rain, VII. TO THE DAISY. "Her* divine skill taught me this, G. WITHER. IN youth from rock to rock I went, Most pleased when most uneasy; Thee Winter in the garland wears * His Muse. Spring parts the clouds with softest airs, Whole Summer-fields are thine by right; In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Nor grieved, if thou be set at naught: We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, Be violets in their sacred mews e; The flowers the wanton Zephyrs choose Proud be the rose, with rains and dews Her head impearling; Thou liv❜st with less ambitious aim, If to a rock from rains he fly, |