Household words, No. 23, August 31, 1850 : $b A weekly journal
General
Household words, No. 23, August 31, 1850 : $b A weekly journal
English literature -- Periodicals
light) of the garden work, finding easy tasks for Moss; and Allan worked
like a man at the drains. They had been called good drains before; but
now, there was an outfall for deeper ones; and deeper they must be made.
Moreover, a strong rivalry arose among the neighbours about their
respective portions of the combined drainage; and under the stimulus of
ambition, Woodruffe recovered his spirits and the use of his limbs
wonderfully. He suffered cruelly from his rheumatism; and in the
evenings felt as if he could never more lift a spade; yet, not the less
was he at work again in the morning, and so sanguine as to the
improvement of his ground, that it was necessary to remind him, when
calculating his gains, that it would take two years, at least, to prove
the effects of his present labours.
LINES TO A DEAD LINNET.
BY A SOLITARY STUDENT.
Sweet little friend in hours of lonely thought,
And studious toil thro’ the unresting day,
Why hast thou left me to the sullen hours,
So dull and changeless now? Thy light-heart song,
And fluttering plume of joy, beguile no more
My weary mind, happy when so estranged,
From books, which are the bane of all repose.
The secret bustle of thy frequent meal,
Like elfin working mischief, all unseen
At bottom of thy cage; thy dipping bill,
Oft splashing sportive o’er the learned tome,
And rousing my ’rapt soul to homelier themes;
The tuning twitter, snatch’d and interrupt—
The timorous essay, low and querulous—
The strain symphonious—and the full burst of song,
That made my study-walls re-echo sweet,
The harmonious peal, while all its tatter’d maps
And prints unframed, responsive tremblings gave;—
All these are past, and joy takes wing with thee.
Nor less, when in the dreary night, far spent,
Still was I pondering o’er the murky page,
Hast thou attracted notice by thy bill
Battling along the wires; and in the twinkle—
The clos’d—and then, bright little eye, half-oped.
Well have I read thy meaning, and full soon,
Thus warned of needful slumber, borne away
The wasted lamp, and sought my lonely couch.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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