186
THE TABLES TURNED;
AN EVENING SCENE, ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,
Why all this toil and trouble?
Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you'll grow double.
Why all this toil and trouble?
Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you'll grow double.
The sun above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow,
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
A freshening lustre mellow,
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
