James Thomson (1)

Think, oh, grateful think!
How good the God of Harvest is to you;
Who pours abundance o'er read more

Think, oh, grateful think!
How good the God of Harvest is to you;
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields,
While those unhappy partners of you kind
Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven,
And ask their humble dole.

While I deduce,
From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings,
The symphony of spring.

While I deduce,
From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings,
The symphony of spring.

Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge,
The glow-worm lights his gem; and through the dark,
A read more

Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge,
The glow-worm lights his gem; and through the dark,
A moving radiance twinkles.

Even from the body's purity, the mind
Receives a secret sympathetic aid.

Even from the body's purity, the mind
Receives a secret sympathetic aid.

The swallow sweeps
The slimy pool, to build his hanging house.

The swallow sweeps
The slimy pool, to build his hanging house.