Little vices many times. THE ROSE. How fair is the rose! what a beautiful flower! But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast, When its leaves are all dead, and fine colors are lost, So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, Though they bloom and look gay like a rose: For all our fond care to preserve them is vain; Time kills them as fast as he goes. Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty, But gain a good name by well doing my duty; WATTS. AN OLD MAN'S ADVICE. 131 AN OLD MAN'S ADVICH COME, Henry, and list what an old man says, My boy, to the impulse always yield But when a thought springs in the heart concealed, When you stand in doubt if a deed be right Never think, my dear boy, that your life was given From the circle of human affections riven, You'd be wretched, though earth were as bright as heaven, And you on a monarch's throne. To your kindred, your neighbors, let kindness flow, In a bright perennial stream; Be true to your friend;-be just e'en to your foe; To your country a wise and affectionate son, Unseen let the streams of your charity run, Thus shall He crown your days with his blessings below, With friendship, and honor, and peace; Or if storms o'er your head in wild fury should blow, And your fond hopes be laid by adversity low, Fear not, but await your release. 8. G. BULFINCH. THE ANT, OR EMMET. THESE emmets, how little they are in our eyes! Yet, wise as we are, if we went to their school, THE ANT. They wear not their time out in sleeping or play, And for winter they lay up their stores; 133 They manage their work in such regular forms, [storms, But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant, Now, now, bloom, while my strength and my youth are in [come, Let me think what shall serve me when sickness shall And pray that my sins be forgiven; Let me read in good books, and believe and obey, That when death turns me out of this cottage of clay, I may dwell in a palace in heaven. WATTS. THE HAPPY OLD AGE. "You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "The few locks that are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man ; "In the days of my youth," Father William replied, "I remember'd that youth would fly fast, And abus'd not my health and my vigor at first, "You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone; "In the days of my youth," Father William replied; "I remember'd that youth would not last; I thought of the future, whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past." "You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And life must be hast'ning away; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death! Now tell me the reason, I pray." |