Page:Poetical works of William Cullen Bryant (IA poeticalworksof00brya).pdf/58

26 So they, who climb to wealth, forget The friends in darker fortunes tried. I copied them but I regret That I should ape the ways of pride. And when again the genial hour Awakes the painted tribes of light, I'll not o'erlook the modest flower That made the woods of April bright.

, if thou hast learned a truth which needs No school of long experience, that the world Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares. To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm To thy sick heart. Thou wilt find nothing here Of all that pained thee in the haunts of men, And made thee loathe thy life. The primal curse Fell, it is true, upon the unsinning earth, But not in vengeance. God hath yoked to guilt Her pale tormentor, misery. Hence, these shades Are still the abodes of gladness; the thick roof