THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES.ByWILLIAM WORDSWORTH.Thatway look, my infant, lo!What a pretty baby-show!See the kitten on the wall,Sporting with the leaves that fall!Withered leaves—one, two, and three—From the lofty Elder-tree!—See the kitten! how she starts,Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts,First at one, and then its fellow,Just as light and just as yellow!Such a light of gladness breaks,Pretty kitten, from thy freaks,Spreads, with such a living grace,O’er my little Laura’s face!Yes, the sight so stirs and charmsThee, baby, laughing in my arms,That almost I could repineThat your transports are not mine;That I do not wholly fareEven as ye do, thoughtless pair!And I wall have my careless season,Spite of melancholy reason;Will walk through life in such a way,That, when time brings on decay,Now and then I may possessHours of perfect gladsomeness.—Pleased by any random toy;By a kitten’s busy joy,Or an infant’s laughing eye,Sharing in the ecstasy.I would fare like that, or this;Find my wisdom in my bliss;Keep the sprightly soul awake;And have faculties to take,Even from things by sorrow wrought,Matter for a jocund thought;Spite of care and spite of grief,To gambol with Life’s falling leaf.* * * * *Hissixty summers—what are they in truth?By Providence peculiarly blest,With him the strong hilarity of youthAbides, despite gray hairs, a constant guest.His sun has veered a point toward the west,But light as dawn his heart is glowing yet,—That heart the simplest, gentlest, kindliest, best,Where truth and manly tenderness are metWith faith and heavenward hope, the suns that never set.Henry Taylor.
THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES.ByWILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
Thatway look, my infant, lo!What a pretty baby-show!See the kitten on the wall,Sporting with the leaves that fall!Withered leaves—one, two, and three—From the lofty Elder-tree!—See the kitten! how she starts,Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts,First at one, and then its fellow,Just as light and just as yellow!Such a light of gladness breaks,Pretty kitten, from thy freaks,Spreads, with such a living grace,O’er my little Laura’s face!Yes, the sight so stirs and charmsThee, baby, laughing in my arms,That almost I could repineThat your transports are not mine;That I do not wholly fareEven as ye do, thoughtless pair!And I wall have my careless season,Spite of melancholy reason;Will walk through life in such a way,That, when time brings on decay,Now and then I may possessHours of perfect gladsomeness.—Pleased by any random toy;By a kitten’s busy joy,Or an infant’s laughing eye,Sharing in the ecstasy.I would fare like that, or this;Find my wisdom in my bliss;Keep the sprightly soul awake;And have faculties to take,Even from things by sorrow wrought,Matter for a jocund thought;Spite of care and spite of grief,To gambol with Life’s falling leaf.
Thatway look, my infant, lo!What a pretty baby-show!See the kitten on the wall,Sporting with the leaves that fall!Withered leaves—one, two, and three—From the lofty Elder-tree!—See the kitten! how she starts,Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts,First at one, and then its fellow,Just as light and just as yellow!Such a light of gladness breaks,Pretty kitten, from thy freaks,Spreads, with such a living grace,O’er my little Laura’s face!Yes, the sight so stirs and charmsThee, baby, laughing in my arms,That almost I could repineThat your transports are not mine;That I do not wholly fareEven as ye do, thoughtless pair!And I wall have my careless season,Spite of melancholy reason;Will walk through life in such a way,That, when time brings on decay,Now and then I may possessHours of perfect gladsomeness.—Pleased by any random toy;By a kitten’s busy joy,Or an infant’s laughing eye,Sharing in the ecstasy.I would fare like that, or this;Find my wisdom in my bliss;Keep the sprightly soul awake;And have faculties to take,Even from things by sorrow wrought,Matter for a jocund thought;Spite of care and spite of grief,To gambol with Life’s falling leaf.
Thatway look, my infant, lo!What a pretty baby-show!See the kitten on the wall,Sporting with the leaves that fall!Withered leaves—one, two, and three—From the lofty Elder-tree!—See the kitten! how she starts,Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts,First at one, and then its fellow,Just as light and just as yellow!Such a light of gladness breaks,Pretty kitten, from thy freaks,Spreads, with such a living grace,O’er my little Laura’s face!Yes, the sight so stirs and charmsThee, baby, laughing in my arms,That almost I could repineThat your transports are not mine;That I do not wholly fareEven as ye do, thoughtless pair!And I wall have my careless season,Spite of melancholy reason;Will walk through life in such a way,That, when time brings on decay,Now and then I may possessHours of perfect gladsomeness.—Pleased by any random toy;By a kitten’s busy joy,Or an infant’s laughing eye,Sharing in the ecstasy.I would fare like that, or this;Find my wisdom in my bliss;Keep the sprightly soul awake;And have faculties to take,Even from things by sorrow wrought,Matter for a jocund thought;Spite of care and spite of grief,To gambol with Life’s falling leaf.
Thatway look, my infant, lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall!
Withered leaves—one, two, and three—
From the lofty Elder-tree!
—See the kitten! how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts,
First at one, and then its fellow,
Just as light and just as yellow!
Such a light of gladness breaks,
Pretty kitten, from thy freaks,
Spreads, with such a living grace,
O’er my little Laura’s face!
Yes, the sight so stirs and charms
Thee, baby, laughing in my arms,
That almost I could repine
That your transports are not mine;
That I do not wholly fare
Even as ye do, thoughtless pair!
And I wall have my careless season,
Spite of melancholy reason;
Will walk through life in such a way,
That, when time brings on decay,
Now and then I may possess
Hours of perfect gladsomeness.
—Pleased by any random toy;
By a kitten’s busy joy,
Or an infant’s laughing eye,
Sharing in the ecstasy.
I would fare like that, or this;
Find my wisdom in my bliss;
Keep the sprightly soul awake;
And have faculties to take,
Even from things by sorrow wrought,
Matter for a jocund thought;
Spite of care and spite of grief,
To gambol with Life’s falling leaf.
* * * * *
Hissixty summers—what are they in truth?By Providence peculiarly blest,With him the strong hilarity of youthAbides, despite gray hairs, a constant guest.His sun has veered a point toward the west,But light as dawn his heart is glowing yet,—That heart the simplest, gentlest, kindliest, best,Where truth and manly tenderness are metWith faith and heavenward hope, the suns that never set.Henry Taylor.
Hissixty summers—what are they in truth?By Providence peculiarly blest,With him the strong hilarity of youthAbides, despite gray hairs, a constant guest.His sun has veered a point toward the west,But light as dawn his heart is glowing yet,—That heart the simplest, gentlest, kindliest, best,Where truth and manly tenderness are metWith faith and heavenward hope, the suns that never set.Henry Taylor.
Hissixty summers—what are they in truth?By Providence peculiarly blest,With him the strong hilarity of youthAbides, despite gray hairs, a constant guest.His sun has veered a point toward the west,But light as dawn his heart is glowing yet,—That heart the simplest, gentlest, kindliest, best,Where truth and manly tenderness are metWith faith and heavenward hope, the suns that never set.
Hissixty summers—what are they in truth?
By Providence peculiarly blest,
With him the strong hilarity of youth
Abides, despite gray hairs, a constant guest.
His sun has veered a point toward the west,
But light as dawn his heart is glowing yet,—
That heart the simplest, gentlest, kindliest, best,
Where truth and manly tenderness are met
With faith and heavenward hope, the suns that never set.
Henry Taylor.