Thou, Linnet! in thy green array, And this is thy dominion. While birds, and butterflies, and flowers, Make all one band of paramours, Thyself thy own enjoyment. Amid yon tuft of hazel trees, Yet seeming still to hover; That cover him all over. My dazzled sight he oft deceives, YEW-TREES Compare the note on A Night-Piece. THERE is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore; Not loth to furnish weapons for the bands Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea And drew their sounding bows at Azin cour, Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers. Of vast circumference and gloom profound This solitary Tree! a living thing note For illustration, see my Sister's Journal, (Wordsworth). I SHIVER, Spirit fierce and bold. Strike pleasure dead, And have I then thy bones so near, Off weight-nor press on weightaway Dark thoughts!—they came, but not të stay; There, too, a Son, his joy and pride, Lies gathered to his Father's side, Yet one to which is not denied For he is safe, a quiet bed And surely here it may be said And oh for Thee, by pitying grace Sighing I turned away; but ere Chanted in love that casts out fear 1803. 1845. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND This delightful creature and her demeanor are particularly described in my Sister's Journal. (Wordsworth.) SWEET Highland Girl, a very shower Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here scattered, like a random seed, Remote from men, Thou dost not need The embarrassed look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a Mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread! Soft smiles, by human kindness bred! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs Fron quick and eager visitings Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmoved in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kindThus beating up against the wind. What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways, and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighborhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see! Thy elder Brother I would be, Thy Father--anything to thee! Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place. 1807. STEPPING WESTWARD While my Fellow-traveller and I were walk ing by the side of Loch Ketterine, one fine even. ing after sunset, in our road to a Hut where, in the course of our Tour, we had been hospitably entertained some weeks before, we met, in one of the loneliest parts of that solitary region, two well-dressed Women, one of whom said to us by way of greeting, "What, you are stepping west. ward?" (Wordsworth.) "What, you are stepping westward ?* -"Yea." -Twould be a wildish destiny, The dewy ground was dark and cold; I liked the greeting; 't was a sound The very sound of courtesy: 1803. 1807. THE SOLITARY REAPER No Nightingale did ever chant A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard Will no one tell me what she sings?- Or is it some more humble lay, Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang YARROW UNVISITED See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon the banks of the Yarrow; in particu lar, the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton beginning "Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny Bride,-Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow -” (Wordsworth). FROM Stirling castle we had seen "Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town, "There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs, The lint whites sing in chorus: "What's Yarrow but a river bare, -Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn My True-love sighed for sorrow; I thus could speak of Yarrow ! "Oh! green," said I, "are Yarrow's holms, And sweet is Yarrow flowing! "Let beeves and home-bred kine partake "Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown! It must, or we shall rue it : We have a vision of our own; The treasured dreams of times long past, "If Care with freezing years should INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD "In my Ode on the Intimations of Immortality in Childhood, I do not profess to give a literal representation of the state of the affections and of the moral being in childhood. I record my own feelings at that time--my absolute spirituality, my all-soulness,' if I may so speak. At that time I could not believe that I should lie down quietly in the grave, and that my body would moulder into dust." (Knight's Words worth, II, 326. See also, in the Encyclopædia Britannica, the article " Poetry.") I THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, Our birth is but a sleep and a forget. ting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east |