"THE MAN THAT HATH NO MUSIC" 11 The Heaven such grace did lend her, Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness, To help him of his blindness; Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, And this our life exempt from public haunt Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, - From "AS YOU LIKE IT." 5 10 15 "The Man that hath no Music in Himself" The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 20 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; Let no such man be trusted. -From "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE." Moonlight 5 How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sound of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica look, how the floor of heaven 10 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st, But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims. - From "MERCHANT OF VENICE." "SWEET IS THE BREATH OF MORN" 13 All may of Thee partake: Nothing can be so mean Which with this tincture (for Thy sake) A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine: Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws, This is the famous stone 5 "Sweet is the Breath of Morn" Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet 15 20 Evening Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, Sonnet on his Blindness When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, 15 And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He, returning, chide: "Doth God exact day labor, light denied?" 20 I fondly ask; but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best "WHEN ALL THY MERCIES" 15 Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. Is kingly. Thousands at His bidding speed, JOSEPH ADDISON ENGLAND, 1672-1719 "When All Thy Mercies" WHEN all Thy mercies, O my God! From whom those comforts flowed. When, in the slippery paths of youth, Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe, Ten thousand, thousand precious gifts Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy. 5 10 15 20 |