A CALM EVENING. Ir is a beauteous Evening, calm and free: The gentleness of heaven is on the sea: A sound like thunder-everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, WORDSWORTH. Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead: The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil, Healthful and strong; full as the summer rose Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. E'en stooping age is here; and infant hands Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load O'ercharg'd, amid the kind oppression roll. Wide flies the tedded* grain; all in a row Advancing broad or wheeling round the field, They spread the breathing harvest to the sun, That throws refreshful round a rural smell; Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground, And drive the dusky wave along the mead, The russet haycock rises thick behind, In order gay; while heard from dale to dale, Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice Of happy labour, love, and social glee. THOMSON. * Tedded, tossed, or spread about in the sun; to tede grass. THE OLD CUMBERLAND BEGGAR. I SAW an aged Beggar in my walk; And he was seated by the highway side, Built at the foot of a huge hill, that they All white with flour, the dole of village dames, Upon the second step of that small pile, He travels on, a solitary man, His age has no companion. Thus, from day to day, Bow-bent, his eyes for ever on the ground, He plies his weary journey. Poor Traveller! His staff trails with him; scarcely do his feet Disturb the summer dust; he is so still |