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! ’t is a dull and endless strife; Come, hear the woodland linnet— How sweet his music! on my life, There ’s more of wisdom in it! And hark! how blithe the throstle sings! He, too, is no mean preacher; Come forth into the light of things— Let Nature be your teacher. She has a world of ready wealth, Our minds and hearts to bless,— Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, Truth breathed by cheerfulness. One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can. Sweet is the lore which nature brings; Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things— We murder to dissect. Enough of science and of art; Close up those barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
The Tables Turned
More from Poet
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Mikor először tűnt elém,
drága volt, mint egy tünemény,
kit azért küldött életem,
hogy egy perc dísze ő legyen.
Szeme mint alkony csillaga;
s az alkony hozzá a haja:
csak ennyi benne az, ami
nem májusi és hajnali.
Vidám kép, édes könnyűség:
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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....
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Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou Soul, that art the eternity of thought! And giv’st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion! not in vain, By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul— Not with...
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Five years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, 1 rolling from their mountain-springs With a soft inland murmur.—Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild, secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion,...
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My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky; So was it when my life began, So is it now I am a man, So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.