Aaron Hill

There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in melancholy.

There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in melancholy.

Who backs his rigid Sabbath, so to speak,
Against the wicked remnant of the week."

Who backs his rigid Sabbath, so to speak,
Against the wicked remnant of the week."

For man may pious texts repeat,
And yet religion have no inward seat.

For man may pious texts repeat,
And yet religion have no inward seat.

"Rogue that I am," he whispers to himself,
"I lie, I cheat--do anything for pelf,
But who read more

"Rogue that I am," he whispers to himself,
"I lie, I cheat--do anything for pelf,
But who on earth can say I am not pious?"

To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The sod's a cushion for his pious read more

To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The sod's a cushion for his pious want,
And, consecrated by the heaven within it,
The sky-blue pool a font.