I sold a sheep as they had said, And they were healthy with their food; A woeful time it was for me, To see the end of all my gains, To see it melt like snow away! For me it was a woeful day. Another still! and still another! A little lamb, and then its mother! It was a vein that never stopp'd, Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd. Till thirty were not left alive They dwindled, dwindled, one by one, And I may say that many a time I wished they all were gone : They dwindled one by one away; To wicked deeds I was inclined, Oft-times I thought to run away; Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me, God cursed me in my sore distress, And every week, and every day, They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see! From ten to five, from five to three, A lamb, a weather, and a ewe; And then at last, from three to two; And of my fifty, yesterday I had but only one, And here it lies upon my arm, Alas! and I have none; To-day I fetched it from the rock; LINES Left upon a seat in a YEW-TREE, which stands near the Lake of ESTHWAITE, on a desolate part of the shore, yet commanding a beautiful prospect. -Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely yew-tree stands -Who he was That piled these stones, and with the mossy sod With its dark arms to form a circling bower, I well remember.-He was one who owned No common soul. In youth by science nursed Of lofty hopes, he to the world went forth, Which genius did not hallow, 'gainst the taint But hung with fruit which no one, that passed by, And with the food of pride sustained his soul In solitude. Stranger! these gloomy boughs -- Had charms for him; and here he loved to sit, The stone-chat, or the glancing sand-piper; And heath, and thistle, thinly sprinkled o'er, |