THE PADDOCK
Quick and general as the breeze,
Joy enspirits us, brisk Content
Thrills the air, like clover-scent
With a mountain crispness blent,
And Love, the faithful lark, can fly
And sing, now, in a cloudless sky.
I wonder, has Life more to give!
O liberal and delicious days,
When all my duty is, to live,
Love, and be happy, and give praise!
Happy? why, in such employ,
Every breath’s an added joy,
Every pulsing of the blood
Hearty is, and must do good!
Still we work—of course we do,
We’re alive! but work is pleasure,
Done by choice, and done at leisure;
And the work that, day by day,
Now, I lightly waken to,
Always fresh and full of zest—
Helping, forwarding along
On its right and proper way,
Everything I love the best—
Why, it’s better far than play!
—First the creatures, and the plants,
Pretty souls! to be supplied
With the little natural wants
It’s so natural to provide;
Then—O God! the dearer farm,
The far richer garden-ground,
Tasking with delicious toil:—
Priceless bodies to keep sound,
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