——昂贵的商品;从来没有人买过或卖过，因为宝石，珍珠，或守财奴的商店，两次被告知:除了某些水汪汪的珍珠，所有人都拥有，他们可以一个接一个地购买。这些东西，虽然珍贵，但少之又少，交通如此缓慢，价格如此高昂!它是为了皱眉、白发和叹息，而不是为了容光焕发的双颊和炯炯有神的眼睛;当那些都消逝了，这些就会朦胧地闪耀——那时，经验就可以属于你了。书本会断言，牧师和讲坛会教导，年轻人会聆听它们严肃的话语，微笑的嘴唇会漫不经心地说“是”，而眼睛和心灵都不会默许。但悲伤会迫使人相信;她看到了最细微的话语，并回答说:“非常正确。”惊讶，不情愿，但最后不得不承认，长久以来我们所持的怀疑的天平，那就是，无论我们自己走过的道路如何，生活都与我们祖先所说的大同小异。一间破旧的茅屋，在审美上，隔着适当的距离，就显出美丽的光彩:它那破碎的玻璃，残破的茅草，山墙上长满了青苔，夕阳把它的各种颜色照得亮晶晶，在诗意的眼睛里，构成了一幅美丽的图画; And yield delight that modern brick and board, Square, sound, and well arranged, would not afford. But, cross the mead to take a nearer ken,-- Where all the magic of the vision then ? The picturesque is vanished, and the eye, Averted, turns from loathsome poverty ; And while it lingers, e'en the sun's pure ray Seems almost sullied by its transient stay. The broken walls, with slight repairs embossed, Are but cold comforts in a winter's frost : No smiling, peaceful peasant, half refined, There tunes his reed on rustic seat reclined ; But there the bended form and haggard face, Worn with the lines that vice and misery trace. Thus fades the charm, by vernal hope supplied To every object it has never tried ; --To fairy visions, and elysian meads, Thus vulgar, cold reality succeeds. When sanguine youth the plain of life surveys, It does not calculate on rainy days. Some, as they enter on the unknown way, Expect large troubles at a distant day ; --The loss of wealth, or friends they fondly prize ; But reckon not on ills of smaller size, Those nameless, trifling ills, that intervene, And people life, infesting every scene ; And there with silent, unavowed success, Wear off the keener edge of happiness : Those teazing swarms, that buzz about our joys, More potent than the whirlwind that destroys ; --Potent, with heavenly teaching, to attest Life is a pilgrimage, and not a rest. That lesson, learned aright, is valued more Than all experience ever taught before ; For this her choicest secret, timely given, Is wisdom, virtue, happiness, and heaven. Long is religion viewed, by many an eye, As wanted more for safety by and by, --A thing for times of danger and distress, Than needful for our present happiness. But after fruitless, wearisome assays To find repose and peace in other ways, The sickened soul--when Heaven imparts its grace, Returns to seek its only resting place ; And sweet Experience proves, as years increase, That wisdom ways are pleasantness and peace. Yes, and the late conviction, fraught with pain, On many a callous conscience strikes in vain. Blind to ourselves--to others not less blind, We slowly learn to understand mankind. Sanguine and ardent, indisposed to hold The cautious maxims that our fathers told, We place new objects in the fairest light, And offer generous friendship at first sight ;-- Expect (though not the first-rate mental powers) A mind, at least, in unison with ours ; Free from those meaner faults, that most conspire To damp our love, if not put out its fire. Cold o'er the heart the slight expression steals, That first some trait of character reveals ; A fault, perhaps, less prominent alone, But causing painful friction with our own. Long is the harsh, reluctant thought supprest, We drive the cold suspicion from our breast ; But when confirmed, our generous love condemn, Turn off disgusted with the world and them-- Resolve no more at Friendship's fane to serve, And call her names she does not quite deserve. But this is rash--Experience would confess That friendship's very frailties chill us less (Sincere and well-intentioned all the while) Than the world's complaisant and polished smile. With other chattels, nameless in my verse, Friends must be held 'for better and for worse ;' And that alone true friendship we should call, Which undertakes to love us faults and all ; And, she who guides this humble line could prove There is, there is, such candid, generous love : And from the life, her faithful hand