Chapter 27 THE TABLES TURNED...
Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,
Why all this toil and trouble?
Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or sure you'll grow double.
The sun above the mountains head,
A freshening luster mellow,
Through all the long green ?elds has spread,
His ?rst sweet evening yellow.
Books! tis a dull and endless strife,
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music; on my life
Theres more of wisdom in it.
And hark! how blithe the throat sings!
And he is no mean preacher;
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.
She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless--
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man;
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.
Sweet is the lore which nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things;
--We murder to dissect.
Enough of science and of art;
Close up these barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.