68 IValks in New England 



&quot; Hark ! how the birds do sing 



And woods do ring ! 

 All creatures have their joy, and man hath his ; 



Yet if we rightly measure 



Man s joy and pleasure 

 Rather hereafter than in present is. 



&quot; Not that he may not here 



Taste of the cheer ; 

 But as birds drink, and straight lift up their head, 



So must he sip and think 



Of better drink 

 He may attain to after he is dead.&quot; 



Dead? It is but a euphemism, a mode of 

 speech, a concession to faithless humanity. There 

 is no analogue for this word in what we see of Na 

 ture s processes, and less than none in what the 

 soul is self-convicted of. Why not such a thren 

 ody as we may thus express ? 



Man hath his travail here, 



And much that he must learn, 

 But learning, lift his soul above his task ; 



For here t is he shall earn 

 Whatever from his Father he would ask 

 For that continuing sphere. 



Why, then, sing as the birds ! 

 Make so our transient nest, 

 Rear broods and love them well, then all resign ; 



