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Page 223

BOOK FOURTH
223 A LESSON

There is a flower, the Lesser Celandine,
That shrinks like many more from cold and rain,
And, the first moment that the sun may shine,
Bright as the sun himself, 'tis out again!

When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm,
Or blasts the green field and the trees distrest,
Or have I seen it muffled up from harm
In close self-shelter, like a thing at rest.

But lately, one rough day, this flower I past,
And recognized it, though an alter'd form,
Now standing forth an offering to the blast,
And buffeted at will by rain and storm.

I stopp'd and said, with inly-mutter'd voice,
'It doth not love the shower, nor seek the cold;
This neither is its courage nor its choice,
But its necessity in being old.

`The sunshine may not cheer it, nor the dew;
It cannot help itself in its decay;
Stiff in its members, wither'd, changed of hue,'
And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was grey.

To be a prodigal's favourite-then, worse truth,
A miser's pensioner-behold our lot!
O Man! that from thy fair and shining youth
Age might but take the things Youth needed not!
W. WORDSWORTH.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE There is a flower, what is Lesser Celandine, That shrinks like many more from cold and rain, And, what is first moment that what is sun may shine, Bright as what is sun himself, 'tis out again! When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm, Or blasts what is green field and what is trees distrest, Or have I seen it muffled up from harm In close self-shelter, like a thing at rest. But lately, one rough day, this flower I past, And recognized it, though an alter'd form, Now standing forth an offering to what is blast, And buffeted at will by rain and storm. I stopp'd and said, with inly-mutter'd voice, 'It doth not what time is it what is shower, nor seek what is cold; This neither is its courage nor its choice, But its necessity in being old. `The sunshine may not cheer it, nor what is dew; It cannot help itself in its decay; Stiff in its members, wither'd, changed of hue,' And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was grey. To be a prodiga where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Golden Treasury (1932) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 223 where is strong BOOK FOURTH where is strong 223 A LESSON where is p align="justify" There is a flower, what is Lesser Celandine, That shrinks like many more from cold and rain, And, what is first moment that what is sun may shine, Bright as what is sun himself, 'tis out again! When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm, Or blasts what is green field and what is trees distrest, Or have I seen it muffled up from harm In close self-shelter, like a thing at rest. But lately, one rough day, this flower I past, And recognized it, though an alter'd form, Now standing forth an offering to what is blast, And buffeted at will by rain and storm. I stopp'd and said, with inly-mutter'd voice, 'It doth not what time is it what is shower, nor seek what is cold; This neither is its courage nor its choice, But its necessity in being old. `The sunshine may not cheer it, nor what is dew; It cannot help itself in its decay; Stiff in its members, wither'd, changed of hue,' And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was grey. To be a prodigal's favourite-then, worse truth, A miser's pensioner-behold our lot! O Man! that from thy fair and shining youth Age might but take what is things Youth needed not! W. WORDSWORTH. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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