I CLXIV TO-MORROW N the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining, May my lot no less fortunate be Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining, And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea; With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn, While I carol away idle sorrow, And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn Look forward with hope for to-morrow. With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too, As the sunshine or rain may prevail; And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too, With a barn for the use of the flail: A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game, And a purse when a friend wants to borrow; I 'll envy no nabob his riches or fame, Nor what honours await him to-morrow. From the bleak northern blast may my cot be completely Secured by a neighbouring hill; And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly By the sound of a murmuring rill : And while peace and plenty I find at my board, With a heart free from sickness and sorrow, With my friends may I share what to-day may afford, And let them spread the table to-morrow. And when I at last must throw off this frail covering But my face in the glass I 'll serenely survey, And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow; As this old worn-out stuff, which is threadbare to-day, May become everlasting to-morrow. CLXV Collins L IFE! I know not what thou art, And when, or how, or where we met Life! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; -Then steal away, give little warning, Say not Good Night, - but in some brighter clime A. L. Barbauld BOOK FOURTH CLXVI ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S M HOMER. UCH have I travell'd in the realms of gold Round many western islands have I been Oft of one wide expanse had I been told -Then felt I like some watcher of the skies He stared at the Pacific, and all his men Silent, upon a peak in Darien. J. Keats CLXVII ODE ON THE POETS ARDS of Passion and of Mirth B Ye have left your souls on earth! Have ye souls in heaven too, Yes, and those of heaven commune Thus ye live on high, and then Of their sorrows and delights; Bards of Passion and of Mirth J. Keats A CLXVIII LOVE LL thoughts, all passions, all delights, All are but ministers of Love, Oft in my waking dreams do I The moonshine stealing o'er the scene She lean'd against the armed man, |