Classic Poem

Now green comes springing o'er the heath,
And each small bird with lifted breath
Cries, " Brother, consider the joy there is in living! "
" Consider! consider! " the jolly throstle saith.

The golden gorse, the wild thyme, frail
And sweet, the butter cowslip pale,
Cry " Sisters, consider the peace that comes with giving!
And render, and render your sweet and scented breath! "

Now men, come walking o'er the heath
To mark this pretty world beneath,
Bethink them: " Consider what joy might lie in living,
None striving, constraining none, and thinking not on Death. "