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"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And life must be hastening away;
You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death— Now tell me the reason, I pray?"
"I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied; "Let the cause thy attention engage; In the days of my youth I remember'd my God, And He hath not forgotten my age."
YET Once more, O ye laurels, and once more,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year :
For we were nurs'd upon the self-same hill,
Under the opening eyelids of the morn,
The willows and the hazel-copses green
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
Or taint-worm to the weanling-herds that graze,
Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.
But weep not, woeful shepherds, weep no more
Sunk though he be beneath the wat❜ry floor.
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
For Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high
Through the dear might of Him who walk'd the waves, Where other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song
Hymn to Gratitude.
WHEN all thy mercies, O my God,
O, how shall words with equal warmth
That glows within my ravish'd heart?
Thy providence my life sustain'd,
To all my weak complaints and cries
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd
To form themselves in prayer.
Unnumber'd comforts to my soul
Before my infant heart conceiv'd
From whence those comforts flow'd.
When in the slippery paths of youth
Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe,
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, It gently clear'd my way;
And through the pleasing snares of vice, More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou
Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ ;
That tastes those gifts with joy.
And after death, in distant worlds,
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more, My ever-grateful heart, O Lord, Thy mercy shall adore.
Through all eternity to Thee
The Paper Kite.
ONCE on a time a paper kite
Was mounted to a wond'rous height;
It thus express'd self-admiration:-
And pierce the clouds beyond their sight;