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LEFT UPON A SEAT IN
A YEW TREE
Which stands near the Lake of Esthwaite,
ON A DESOLATE PART OF THE SHORE
YET COMMANDING A BEAUTIFUL PROSPECT.
-Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew
Far from all human dwelling; what if here
No sparkling rivulet spread the verdant herb; What if these barren boughs the bee not loves; Yet, if the wind breathe soft, the curling waves That break against the shore, shall lull thy mind By one soft impulse saved from vacancy.
20 Who he was
That pil'd these stones, and with the mossy sod First cover'd o'er, and taught this aged Tree, Now wild, to bend its arms in circling shade, I well remember. He was one who own'd No common soul. In youth, by genius nurs❜d,"
And big with lofty views, he to the world
And lifting up his head, he then would gaze
Would he forget those beings, to whose minds,
Till his eye streamed with tears.
In this deep
He died, this seat his only monument.
If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure, Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know, that Pride,
Howe'er disguised in its own majesty,
Is littleness; that he who feels contempt
Which he has never used; that Thought with him
Is in its infancy. The man, whose eye
The least of Nature's works, one who might
The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds
Unlawful, ever. O, be wiser thou!
Instructed that true knowledge leads to love;
Who, in the silent hour of inward thought,