| |
| ‘BUT tell me, child, your choice; what shall I buy | |
| You?’—‘Father, what you buy me I like best.’ | |
| With the sweetest air that said, still plied and pressed, | |
| He swung to his first poised purport of reply. | |
| |
| What the heart is! which, like carriers let fly— | 5 |
| Doff darkness, homing nature knows the rest— | |
| To its own fine function, wild and self-instressed, | |
| Falls light as ten years long taught how to and why. | |
| |
| Mannerly-hearted! more than handsome face— | |
| Beauty’s bearing or muse of mounting vein, | 10 |
| All, in this case, bathed in high hallowing grace… | |
| |
| Of heaven what boon to buy you, boy, or gain | |
| Not granted?—Only … O on that path you pace | |
| Run all your race, O brace sterner that strain! | |
| |
| See Notes. |
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