Her brittle toys, reftores me to myself.
How calm is my recefs, and how the froft,
Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear,
The filence and the warmth enjoy'd within.
I faw the woods and fields, at close of day,
A variegated show; the meadows green,
Though faded; and the lands, where lately wav'd
The golden harvest, of a mellow brown,
Upturn'd fo lately by the forceful share.
I faw far off the weedy fallows fmile
With verdure not unprofitable, graz'd
By flocks, fast feeding and selecting each
His fav'rite herb; while all the leaflefs groves,
That skirt th' horizon, wore a sable hue,
Scarce notic'd in the kindred dusk of eve.
To-morrow brings a change, a total change!
Which even now, though filently perform'd,
And flowly, and by most unfelt, the face
Of universal nature undergoes.
Fast falls a fleecy show'r: the downy flakes
Descending, and, with never-ceafing lapse,
Softly alighting upon all below,
Affimilate all objects. Earth receives
Gladly the thick'ning mantle, and the green
And tender blade, that fear'd the chilling blast,
Escapes unhurt beneath fo warm a veil.
In fuch a world, fo thorny, and where none
Finds happiness unblighted, or, if found,
Without fome thiftly forrow at its fide,
It seems the part of wisdom, and no fin
Against the law of love, to measure lots
With less distinguish'd than ourselves, that thus
We may with patience bear our mod'rate ills,
And fympathize with others, fuff'ring more.
Ill fares the trav'ller now, and he that stalks
In pond'rous boots beside his reeking team.
The wain goes heavily, impeded fore
By congregated loads adhering close
To the clogg'd wheels; and in its fluggish pace,
Noiseless, appears a moving hill of fnow.
The toiling steeds expand the noftril wide,
While ev'ry breath, by refpiration strong
Forc'd downward, is confolidated foon
Upon their jutting chefts. He, form'd to bear
The pelting brunt of the tempeftuous night,
With half-fhut eyes, and pucker'd cheeks, and teeth
Prefented bare against the storm, plods on.
One hand fecures his hat, fave when with both
He brandishes his pliant length of whip,
Refounding oft, and never heard in vain.
Oh happy! and, in my account, denied
That fenfibility of pain with which
Refinement is endu'd, thrice happy thou.
Thy frame, robuft and hardy, feels indeed
The piercing cold, but feels it unimpair'd.
The learned finger never need explore
Thy vig'rous pulse, and the unhealthful East,
That breathes the spleen, and fearches ev'ry bone
Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee.
Thy days roll on exempt from household care;
Thy waggon is thy wife; and the poor beasts
That drag the dull companion to and fro,
Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care.
Ah, treat them kindly! rude as thou appear'st,
Yet fhow that thou haft mercy, which the great,
With needlefs hurry whirl'd from place to place,
Humane as they would feem, not always fhow.
Poor, yet industrious, modeft, quiet, neat,
Such claim compaffion in a night like this,
And have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart.
Warm'd, while it lafts, by labor, all day long
They brave the feason, and yet find at eve,
Ill clad and fed but fparely, time to cool.
The frugal housewife trembles when she lights
Her scanty stock of brush-wood, blazing clear,
But dying foon, like all terreftrial joys.
The few fmall embers left fhe nurses well,
And while her infant race, with outspread hands
And crowded knees, fit cow'ring o'er the sparks,
Retires, content to quake, fo they be warm'd.
The man feels leaft, as more inur'd than fhe
To winter, and the current in his veins.
More brifkly mov'd by his feverer toil;
Yet he too finds his own diftrefs in theirs.
The taper foon extinguish'd, which I faw
Dangled along at the cold finger's end
Juft when the day declin'd, and the brown loaf
Lodg'd on the shelf, half-eaten without fauce
Of fav'ry cheese, or butter coftlier ftill,
Sleep feems their only refuge: for, alas!
Where penury is felt the thought is chain'd,
And fweet colloquial pleasures are but few.
With all this thrift they thrive not.
Ingenious parfimony takes, but juft
Saves the small inventory, bed and stool,
Skillet and old carv'd cheft, from public fale.
They live, and live without extorted alms
From grudging hands, but other boaft have nona
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