BUT trees, and rivulets whose rapid course
Defies the check of winter, haunts of deer,
And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs,
And lanes, in which the primrose ere her time

Peeps through the moss that clothes the hawthorn root,
Deceive no student. Wisdom there, and truth,

Not shy as in the world, and to be won

By slow solicitation, seize at once

The roving thought, and fix it on themselves.

COWPER.

I LOVED the old man, for I pitied him.
A task it was, I own, to hold discourse
With one so slow in gathering up his thoughts,
But he was a cheap pleasure to my eyes;
Mild, inoffensive, ready in his way,

And useful to his utmost power: and there

Our Housewife knew full well what she possessed

He was her vassal of all labour, tilled

Her garden, from the pasture fetched her kine
And, one among the orderly array

Of haymakers, beneath the burning sun
Maintained his place; or heedfully pursued
His course, on errands bound to other vales,
Leading sometimes an inexperienced child,
Too young for any profitable task.

So moved he like a shadow that performed
Substantial service.

WORDSWORTH.