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Look but at the gardener's pride —
How he glories, when he sees
Roses, Lilies, side by side,
Violets in families!
By the heart of Man, his tears,
By his hopes and by his fears,
Thou, old Grey-bread! art the Warden
Of a far superior garden.
Thus then, each to other dear,
Let them all in quiet lie,
Andrew there, and Susan here,
Neighbours in mortality.
And, should I live through sun and rain
Seven widowed years without my Jane,
O Sexton, do not then remove her,
Let one grave hold the Loved and Lover!
Who fancied what a pretty sight
Was it the humour of a Child?
I asked— 'twas whispered, The device
To each or all might well belong:
It is the Spirit of Paradise
That prompts such work, a Spirit strong,
That gives to all the self-same bent
Where life is wise and innocent.
THE WANDERING JEW.
Though the torrents from their fountains
Though, as if with eagle pinion,
If on windy days the Raven
Day and night my toils redouble!
SOLITUDE OF BINNORIE.
Seven Daughters had Lord Archibald,