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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

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.

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

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