Original Poems for Infant Minds

ws of the morning are dry, Men and beasts to their labors repair, And the lark wings his way to the sky: Now fresh from his moss-dappled shed, The husbandman trudges along, And like the lark over his head, Begins the new day with a song. Just now all around was so still, Not a bird drew his head from his wing; Not an echo was heard from the hill, Not a water-fly dipped in the spring; Now, every thing wakes from its sleep, The shepherd boy pipes to his flock, The common is speckled with sheep, And cheerfully clamors the cock. Now, winding along on the road Half hid by the hedges so gay, The wagon drags slow with its load, And its bells tinkle, tinkle, away. Vol. v. 19 The husbandman follows his plough. Across the brown fallow field's slope, And toils in the sweat of his brow, Repaid by the pleasures of hope. The city, so noisy and wide, Begins to look smoky and gray, Now business, and pleasure, and pride, March each in a different way. My lord, and my lady so fair, The merchant, with dignified look, And all to their business repair, From the nobleman down to his cook. For the. dews of the morning have flown, And the sun rises bright in the sky ; Alike in the field and the town, Men and beasts to their labor apply, And idle no hand must remain, Nor eye sink in slumber so dark, For evening is coming again, And the night, in which no man can work. And what is our life but a day ? ...