Iv

Along my winding way I know A shady dell that’s winking; The very corner for Self and Co To do a world of thinking. And shall I this? and shall I that? Till Nature answers, ne’ther! Strike match and light your pipe in your hat, Rejoicing in sound shoe-leather! So lead along, cries Roving Tim, And croak, my jolly raven! The wind according to its whim Is in and out of haven.