The Peasant Poet

He loved the brook's soft sound,
The swallow swimming by;
He loved the daisy-covered ground,
The cloud-bedappled sky.
To him the dismal storm appeared
The very voice of God,
And when the evening rack was reared
Stood Moses with his rod;
And everything his eyes surveyed,
The insects i' the brake -
Were creatures God Almighty made;
He loved them for His sake.
A silent man in life's affairs,
A thinker from a Boy,
A peasant in his daily cares -
A Poet in his joy.
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