 | Poems at Home and Abroad |  |
79
The Village Naturalist
In Memory of William Greenip, 2nd November, 1890.
God often fills a poor man's patient heart
With His own reverent love and constant care
For all the things He hath created fair,—
Birds, flowers, the wings that fly, the fins that dart,—
And therewithal by nature's winsome art,—
Leads him to heights of philosophic air
Where clamour dies, Heaven's ether is so rare,
And bids him walk with gentleness apart.
With His own reverent love and constant care
For all the things He hath created fair,—
Birds, flowers, the wings that fly, the fins that dart,—
And therewithal by nature's winsome art,—
Leads him to heights of philosophic air
Where clamour dies, Heaven's ether is so rare,
And bids him walk with gentleness apart.
Friend! such wert thou: the Newlands valley dew,
The star o'er Grisedale's purple head that shone,
Were not more silent, but each stream and glade,
Each bird that flashed, all dusky moths that flew,
All flowers held commune with thee. Thou art gone:
And nature mourns the tender heart she made.
The star o'er Grisedale's purple head that shone,
Were not more silent, but each stream and glade,
Each bird that flashed, all dusky moths that flew,
All flowers held commune with thee. Thou art gone:
And nature mourns the tender heart she made.
| Poems at Home and Abroad | |