Wednesday, July 1, 2020

THE TABLES TURNED - by William Wordsworth





THE  TABLES  TURNED

by William Wordsworth



Up! up, my friend! and quit your books,
Or surely you’ll grow double;
Up! up, my friend! and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble ?


The sun, above the mountain’s head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long, green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.


Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife;
Come, hear the woodland linnet - 
How sweet his music! on my life,
There’s more of wisdom in it!


And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, 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 those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.