olly utterdSo fit to move a skylarks mirth,As what this little son of earth Hath in his grossness mutterd. Dull fool 1 to think we sons of airOn mans low acti Dns waste a care, His virtues or his vices ;Or soaring on the summer galesThat we should stoop to carry tales Of him or his devices!… … HI AFTER the tempest in the sky,How sweet yon rainbow to the eye ICome, my Matilda, now while someFew drops of rain are yet to come,In this honeysuckle bowerSafely shelterd from the shower,We may count the colours oer.Seven there are, there are no more;Each in each so finely blended,Where they…
Children's poetry, English
Internet Archive · New York Public Library · Public Domain Mark 1.0. Free to use for anything.
