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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
We murder to dissect.
Enough of Science and of Art;
ANIMAL TRANQUILLITY and DECAY,
The little hedge-row birds That peck along the road, regard him not. He travels on, and in his face, his step, His gait, is one expression ; every limb, His look and bending figure, all bespeak A man who does not move with pain, but moves, With thought.-He is insensibly subdued To settled quiet : he is one by whom All effort seems forgotten; one to whom Long patience hath such mild composure given, That patience now doth seem a thing of which He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect, that the young behold
GOODY BLAKE and HARRY GILL,
A TRUE STORY.
Oh! what 's the matter ? what's the matter ?
In March, December, and in July,
Young Harry was a lusty drover,