This Lawn, a carpet all alive With shadows flung from leaves''"to strive ''aIn dance, amid a press Of sunshine, an apt emblem yields Of Worldlings revelling in the fields ''aOf strenuous idleness; Less quick the stir when tide and breeze Encounter, and to narrow seas ''aForbid a moment's rest; The medley less when boreal Lights Glance to and fro, like af'ry Sprites ''aTo feats of arms addrest! Yet, spite of all this eager strife, This ceaseless play, the genuine life ''aThat serves the stedfast hours, Is in the grass beneath, that grows Unheeded, and the mute repose ''aOf sweetly-breathing flowers. |