SUMMER STUDIES. 147 Wilt thou, then, all thy wintry feelings keep, The old dead routine of thy book-writ lore; Nor deem that God can teach by one bright hour What life hath never taught to thee before? See what vast leisure, what unbounded rest, And know once more a child's unreasoning joy. Cease, cease to think, and be content to be; Let God's sweet teachings ripple their soft way. Soar with the bird, and flutter with the leaf; Dance with the seeded grass in fringy play; Sail with the cloud; wave with the dreaming pine, And float with Nature all the live-long day. Call not such hours an idle waste of life; Land that lies fallow gains a quiet power; It treasures from the brooding of God's wings Strength to unfold the future tree and flower. So shall it be with thee if, restful still, Thou rightly studiest in the summer hour; Like a deep fountain which a brook doth fill, Thy mind in seeming rest shall gather power. And when the summer's glorious show is past, SUGGESTED BY A STATUE EXECUTED BY MR. ROGERS, IN FLORENCE, FROM age to age, from clime to clime, A form o'er which the hallow'd vail Round some far isle to make it bright. And as some reaper 'mid the grain, A passing vision, bright and brief; And while he gazed, let fall, perchance, Thus, even here, as in a trance, Before her kneeling form I stand. |