Sweet is the love

Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,

Why all this toil and trouble?

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;

Or surely you'll grow double.

The sun, above the mountain's head,

A freshening lustre mellow

Through all the long green fields has spread,

His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:

Come, hear the woodland linnet,

How sweet his music! on my life,

There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!

He, too, is no mean Preacher;

Come forth into the light of things,

Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,

Our minds and hearts to bless --

Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,

Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the love which Nature brings;

Our meddling intellect

Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:

-- We murder to dissect.

Enough of science and of art;

Close up those barren leaves;

Come forth, and bring with you a heart

That watches and receives.