HAPPINESS OF THE SHEPHERD'S LIFE. No Syrian worms he knows, that with their thread Instead of music, and base flattering tongues, His certain life, that never can deceive him, Is full of thousand sweets, and rich content : His life is neither toss'd in boist'rous seas Of troublous world, nor lost in slothful ease: Pleas'd and full blest he lives, when he his God can please. His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps, His little son into his bosom creeps, The lively picture of his father's face: Never his humble house nor state torment him: Less he could like, if less his God had sent him; And when he dies, green turfs, with grassy tomb, content him. PHINEAS FLETCHER. TO DAFFODILS. FAIR daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; Stay, stay, Until the hast'ning day But to the even-song ; And having pray'd together, we Will go with you along! We have short time to stay as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay, TO DAFFODILS. As you or anything: We die, As your hours do; and dry Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning dew Ne'er to be found again. ROBERT HERRICK. A COUNTRY LIFE. SWEET Country life, to such unknown, But, serving courts and cities, be Less happy, less enjoying thee. Thou never plough'd the ocean's foam, To bring from thence the scorched clove; Nor, with the loss of thy lov'd rest, No; thy ambition's master-piece Flies no thought higher than a fleece; |