Chapter 413

The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing.

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Meek Walton's heavenly memory.

_The Tables Turned_.

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?

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One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

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_A Poet's Epitaph_.

St. 5.

One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.

* * * * *

_Personal Talk_.

St. 3.

The gentle Lady married to the Moor, And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb.

* * * * *

_The Small Celandine_. (From Poems referring to the Period of Old Age.)

To be a Prodigal's Favorite--then, worse truth, A Miser's Pensioner--behold our lot!

_Elegiac Stanzas suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm_.

St. 4.

The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

* * * * *

_Intimations of Immorality_.

St 5.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

* * * * *

But trailing clouds of glory, do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

St. xi.

To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

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THE EXCURSION.