Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/174

166 Art thou a man of gallant pride,

A Soldier, and no man of chaff?

Welcome!—but lay thy sword aside,

And lean upon a Peasant's staff.

Physician art thou? One, all eyes,

Philosopher! a fingering slave,

One that would peep and botanize

Upon his mother's grave?

Wrapp'd closely in thy sensual fleece

O turn aside, and take, I pray,

That he below may rest in peace,

Thy pin-point of a soul away!

—A Moralist perchance appears;

Led, Heaven knows how! to this poor sod:

And He has neither eyes nor ears;

Himself his world, and his own God;