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I fain would stretch me by the highway-side,
⁠To thaw and trickle with the melting snow,
That mingled soul and body with the tide
⁠I too might through the pores of Nature flow,[1]


Might help to forward the new spring along,
⁠If it were mine to choose my toil or day,
Scouring the roads with yonder sluice-way throng,
⁠And so work out my tax on Her highway.

  1. ↑ [Excursions, and Poems, p. 409. See also p. 71.]
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