The Tables Turned ~ by Wm. Wordsworth

Up! Up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you'll grow double;
Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening luster mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet*,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle* sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher;
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless~
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal* wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things~
We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.

* linnet ~ a small common Eurasian songbird related to the finch.
* throstle ~ a song thrush.
* vernal  ~ appropriate to spring.
~ The Canadian Oxford Dictionary