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VI.
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.
The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland Linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life
There's more of wisdom in it.
