Friday, March 20, 2009


And Nature, the old nurse, took
The child upon her knee,
Saying, ‘Here is a story-book
Thy Father has written for thee.

‘Come wander with me (she said)
Into regions yet untrod
And read what is still unread
In the manuscripts of God.’

So he wandered away and away
With Nature the dear old nurse,
Who sang to him night and day
The rhymes of the universe.

And whenever the way seemed long,
Or his heart began to fail,
She would sing a more beautiful song,
Or tell a more wonderful tale.


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