And doming skies, and glory-shedding sun,
And tranquil stars that hung above thy head
Like angels gazing on thy crowded path,
To thee were worthless, and thy soul forsook
The love of beauteous fields, and the blest lore
That man may read in Nature’s book of truth.
Despise not, then, the lazy shepherd boy:
For his account and thine shall be made up,
And evil cherish’d and occasion lost
May cast their load upon thee, while his spirit