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<h2>THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD WITH HIS SON.</h2> O what harper could worthily harp it,    Mine Edward! this wide-stretching wold (Look out wold) with its wonderful carpet    Of emerald, purple, and gold! Look well at it—also look sharp, it       Is getting so cold. The purple is heather (erica);    The yellow, gorse—call’d sometimes “whin.” Cruel boys on its prickles might spike a    Green beetle as if on a pin. You may roll in it, if you would like a       Few holes in your skin. p. 64You wouldn’t?  Then think of how kind you    Should be to the insects who crave Your compassion—and then, look behind you    At you barley-ears!  Don’t they look brave As they undulate—(undulate, mind you,       From unda, a wave). The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it    Sounds here—(on account of our height)! And this hillock itself—who could paint it,    With its changes of shadow and light? Is it not—(never, Eddy, say “ain’t it”)—       A marvellous sight? Then yon desolate eerie morasses,    The haunts of the snipe and the hern— (I shall question the two upper classes    On aquatiles, when we return)— Why, I see on them absolute masses       Of filix or fern. p. 65How it interests e’en a beginner    (Or tiro) like dear little Ned! Is he listening?  As I am a sinner    He’s asleep—he is wagging his head. Wake up!  I’ll go home to my dinner,       And you to your bed. The boundless ineffable prairie;    The splendour of mountain and lake With their hues that seem ever to vary;    The mighty pine-forests which shake In the wind, and in which the unwary       May tread on a snake; And this wold with its heathery garment—    Are themes undeniably great. But—although there is not any harm in’t—    It’s perhaps little good to dilate On their charms to a dull little varmint       Of seven or eight. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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