The village master taught his little school; A man severe he was and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee, At all his jokes, for manya joke had he.
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay; Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite, 'Fool,'said my muse to me; 'look in thy heart, and write.'
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