Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/116

108 (AN AGRICULTURALIST.)

Composed while we were labouring together in his Pleasure-Ground.

! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his Lands,

And shaped these pleasant walks by Emont's side,

Thou art a tool of honour in my hands;

I press thee through the yielding soil with pride.

Rare Master has it been thy lot to know;

Long hast Thou served a Man to reason true;

Whose life combines the best of high and low,

The toiling many and the resting few;

Health, quiet, meekness, ardour, hope secure,

And industry of body and of mind;

And elegant enjoyments, that are pure

As Nature is;—too pure to be refined.