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; Come, weak as is a breaking wave! Here stretch thy body at full length; Or build thy house upon this grave. ADDRESS TO THE SCHOLARS OF THE VILLAGE SCHOOL OF 1799 1845 Composed at Goslar, in Germany. I raised, while kneeling by his side, Your hands, dear Little-ones, do all By night or day blow foul or fair, Here did he sit confined for hours; But he could see the woods and plains, Could hear the wind and mark the showers Come streaming down the streaming panes. Now stretched beneath his grass-green mound He rests a prisoner of the ground. He loved the breathing air, He loved the sun, but if it rise Or set, to him where now he lies, Alas! what idle words; but take The Dirge which for our Master's sake Will make a touching melody. DIRGE MOURN, Shepherd, near thy old grey stone; Thou Angler, by the silent flood; And mourn when thou art all alone, Thou Woodman, in the distant wood! Thou one blind Sailor, rich in joy Thou drooping sick Man, bless the Guide Who checked or turned thy headstrong youth, Thy infancy with heavenly truth. Ye Striplings, light of heart and gay, Bold settlers on some foreign shore, Give, when your thoughts are turned this way, For us who here in funeral strain And when our hearts shall feel a sting Fond healing, like a mother's kiss. BY THE SIDE OF THE GRAVE SOME YEARS AFTER LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat, But benefits, his gift, we trace Expressed in every eye we meet Round this dear Vale, his native place. To stately Hall and Cottage rude Oh true of heart, of spirit gay, Such solace find we for our loss; Shining upon thy happy grave. |