The cur foretells the knell of parting day;
The loafing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;
The wise man homewards plods; I only stay
To fiddle-faddle in a minor key.
by Patience Worth
Behold, I would speak not in command,
For unto youth, command is like a lash,
And youth may not run beneath a lash,
But should be beckoned!
Tiptoe youth is upon the path,