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62
EPISTLE TO T. S********.
Oct. 1837.
Dear Friend, all Nature seems to frown,
And heavy clouds are dripping down;
While I, for want of something better,
Have thought to dictate you a letter.
Its faults I pray you to excuse,
For I shall not o'ertax the muse;
But as the sailor on the sea
Hails the first landfall on his lee,
So I, what thoughts come first in sight,
Without ado the same shall write.
And heavy clouds are dripping down;
While I, for want of something better,
Have thought to dictate you a letter.
Its faults I pray you to excuse,
For I shall not o'ertax the muse;
But as the sailor on the sea
Hails the first landfall on his lee,
So I, what thoughts come first in sight,
Without ado the same shall write.
It oft has been my lot to roam
Far from my native land and home;
But then 't was sweet to bear in mind
The friends of mine were left behind;
And, sir, believe me, not another
Has stood between you and my brother.
Oft I 've recalled with backward look
The joys of which we both partook:
How often by the river's shore
We 've listened to the torrent's roar,
The scene of strife in days of yore ;
Or searched for relics of a race
Who there once had a dwelling-place;
Or gathered grapes, both sweet and good;
Or pulled the fishes from the flood;
And how at eve we 've set afloat
Upon the sleeping stream our boat,
With stealthy oar, and gun in hand
To shoot the rat that swam to land;
And how the midnight moon has shone
Upon us ere our cruise was done.
Dost thou these scenes remember well?
Then I'll no longer on them dwell.
Far from my native land and home;
But then 't was sweet to bear in mind
The friends of mine were left behind;
And, sir, believe me, not another
Has stood between you and my brother.
Oft I 've recalled with backward look
The joys of which we both partook:
How often by the river's shore
We 've listened to the torrent's roar,
The scene of strife in days of yore ;
Or searched for relics of a race
Who there once had a dwelling-place;
Or gathered grapes, both sweet and good;
Or pulled the fishes from the flood;
And how at eve we 've set afloat
Upon the sleeping stream our boat,
With stealthy oar, and gun in hand
To shoot the rat that swam to land;
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Upon us ere our cruise was done.
Dost thou these scenes remember well?
Then I'll no longer on them dwell.
But oh! long years have rolled away
Since thus we walked in sportive play;
And I have wandered on this earth,
Far from the land that claims my birth.
Mine it has often been to scan
The varied forms and ways of man.
Permit Experience to advise,
Nor deem him therefor overwise:
Since thus we walked in sportive play;
And I have wandered on this earth,
Far from the land that claims my birth.
Mine it has often been to scan
The varied forms and ways of man.
Permit Experience to advise,
Nor deem him therefor overwise:
First, then, if restless thoughts incline
Your feet to stray as strayed have mine,
O, be content and stay at home!
If favored here they're fools who roam.
Believe, dear friend, a wanderer's tale—
There 's not on earth a sweeter vale,
Where friendship hale extends the hand;
Where farmers till a better land;
Where yeomen vigorously thrive,
Who will industriously strive;
Where less you see the poor man's hut,
Than thy sweet vale, Connecticut!
To this remark your thoughts apply,
While I will reason secondly:
Your feet to stray as strayed have mine,
O, be content and stay at home!
If favored here they're fools who roam.
Believe, dear friend, a wanderer's tale—
There 's not on earth a sweeter vale,
Where friendship hale extends the hand;
Where farmers till a better land;
Where yeomen vigorously thrive,
Who will industriously strive;
Where less you see the poor man's hut,
Than thy sweet vale, Connecticut!
To this remark your thoughts apply,
While I will reason secondly:
Trust not alone to outward show;
'T is not for man the heart to know.
Fair looks will oft disguise the foul—
A generous boast the stingy soul;
And I have found full oft the case,
The seeming good to be the base.
'T is not for man the heart to know.
Fair looks will oft disguise the foul—
A generous boast the stingy soul;
And I have found full oft the case,
The seeming good to be the base.
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At every time, in every place,
Respect thyself with modest grace;
Hearken to admonition sage;
Revere the frosty head of age.
Should open insult rouse thy ire
Then show the true New-England fire;
But think not every slight offence
A matter of such consequence.
Respect thyself with modest grace;
Hearken to admonition sage;
Revere the frosty head of age.
Should open insult rouse thy ire
Then show the true New-England fire;
But think not every slight offence
A matter of such consequence.
Deem not thyself—(perish rather)—
Wiser than thy honored father.
I once observed from out of college
A Freshman, yet so full of knowledge,
He thought himself its true possessor
As much as any famed professor.
Wiser than thy honored father.
I once observed from out of college
A Freshman, yet so full of knowledge,
He thought himself its true possessor
As much as any famed professor.
Never despise thy avocation;
It is the proudest in the nation!
Who 's less dependent than he who
Depends alone on God to do?
Contented be, till strength shall fail
To hold the plough, and swing the flail.
It is the proudest in the nation!
Who 's less dependent than he who
Depends alone on God to do?
Contented be, till strength shall fail
To hold the plough, and swing the flail.
On other points to keep you steady,
No doubt you are advised already.
And so may “all the joys of sense”
Be yours—“health, peace, and competence”!
No doubt you are advised already.
And so may “all the joys of sense”
Be yours—“health, peace, and competence”!
But one word more before I close:
So long as yonder river flows;
So long as verdure decks its shore,
Or o'er yon rocks its torrents pour;
Till Death shall soul and body sever,
My early friend, I'm thine forever.—
So long as yonder river flows;
So long as verdure decks its shore,
Or o'er yon rocks its torrents pour;
Till Death shall soul and body sever,
My early friend, I'm thine forever.—
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