The Schoolmaster Abroad With His Son.

O what harper could worthily harp it,      Mine Edward! this wide-stretching wold     (Look out wold) with its wonderful carpet      Of emerald, purple, and gold!     Look well at it - also look sharp, it      Is getting so cold.     The purple is heather (erica);      The yellow, gorse - call'd sometimes "whin."     Cruel boys on its prickles might spike a      Green beetle as if on a pin.     You may roll in it, if you would like a      Few holes in your skin.     You wouldn't? Then think of how kind you      Should be to the insects who crave     Your compassion - and then, look behind you      At you barley-ears! Don't they look brave     As they undulate - (undulate, mind you,      From unda, a wave).     The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it      Sounds here - (on account of our height)!     And this hillock itself - who could paint it,      With its changes of shadow and light?     Is it not - (never, Eddy, say "ain't it") -      A marvellous sight?     Then yon desolate eerie morasses,      The haunts of the snipe and the hern -     (I shall question the two upper classes      On aquatiles, when we return) -     Why, I see on them absolute masses      Of filix or fern.     How it interests e'en a beginner      (Or tiro) like dear little Ned!     Is he listening? As I am a sinner      He's asleep - he is wagging his head.     Wake up! I'll go home to my dinner,      And you to your bed.     The boundless ineffable prairie;      The splendour of mountain and lake     With their hues that seem ever to vary;      The mighty pine-forests which shake     In the wind, and in which the unwary      May tread on a snake;     And this wold with its heathery garment -      Are themes undeniably great.     But - although there is not any harm in't -      It's perhaps little good to dilate     On their charms to a dull little varmint      Of seven or eight.