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183
TO THE YOUNG.
If a dower to man were granted,
Free and boundless in extent,
Hills on which renown was planted,
Soil for widest culture meant;
What would be the donor's sorrow
If that unattended earth
Show'd no promise for the morrow,
Nothing but defect and dearth?
Free and boundless in extent,
Hills on which renown was planted,
Soil for widest culture meant;
What would be the donor's sorrow
If that unattended earth
Show'd no promise for the morrow,
Nothing but defect and dearth?
Or, if some small cultivation,
But in patches scatter'd o'er,
Flowers—a few for decoration—
Just in front, and nothing more!
All the vast extent behind it
Left without one seed to grow;
Left—as Time ought ne'er to find it,
Since God bade the sun to glow!
But in patches scatter'd o'er,
Flowers—a few for decoration—
Just in front, and nothing more!
All the vast extent behind it
Left without one seed to grow;
Left—as Time ought ne'er to find it,
Since God bade the sun to glow!
184
Oh, the gift of mind is greater
Than the gift of land can be:
Nothing from our kind Creator
Breathes so much of deity;
Nothing through the world's extension
Equals that eternal dower;
Scarce an angel's comprehension
Spans the vastness of its power!
Than the gift of land can be:
Nothing from our kind Creator
Breathes so much of deity;
Nothing through the world's extension
Equals that eternal dower;
Scarce an angel's comprehension
Spans the vastness of its power!
If, then, but a thin partition
Of that mind true culture knows,
If no tillage gains admission,
Nought that right advancement shows,
Is it grateful to the Donor
Who—some purpose to fulfil—
Made ye of such power the owner,
To be careless of his will?
Of that mind true culture knows,
If no tillage gains admission,
Nought that right advancement shows,
Is it grateful to the Donor
Who—some purpose to fulfil—
Made ye of such power the owner,
To be careless of his will?
Is it grateful to the spirit
Poorly thus its worth to scan,
To neglect what you inherit,
Disregard God's gift to man?
Is it wise to rest contented
With this half-instructed state?
Lost time ne'er was unrepented,
But regret may come too late!
Poorly thus its worth to scan,
To neglect what you inherit,
Disregard God's gift to man?
Is it wise to rest contented
With this half-instructed state?
Lost time ne'er was unrepented,
But regret may come too late!
185
Work then, youth, while yet 'tis morning,
Broad the land before you lies,
Neither task nor labour scorning;
Which the fruit of thought supplies;
As you work so choose your station,
Knowing life and its demands;
Knowing 'tis through cultivation
That the living mind expands!
Broad the land before you lies,
Neither task nor labour scorning;
Which the fruit of thought supplies;
As you work so choose your station,
Knowing life and its demands;
Knowing 'tis through cultivation
That the living mind expands!
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