Stop thinking for once in your life!
To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
"What is good for a bootless bene?" With these dark words begins my tale; And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.
In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .