She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene; The memory of what has been, And never more will be. XI. A SLUMBER did my spirit seal; I had no human fears: She seemed a thing that could not feel No motion has she now, no force; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees. XII. I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 1799. 1799. Continuous as the stars that shine Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed, and gazed, but little thougnt. What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie XIII. THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN. Ar the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the Bird. 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? sees She A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail; And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves. She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade, The mist and the river, the hill and the shade: The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, And the colors have all passed away from her eyes! XIV. POWER OF MUSIC. AN Orpheus! an Orpheus! yes, Faith may grow bold, And take to herself all the wonders of old; Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the same In the street that from Oxford hath borrowed its name. His station is there; and he works on the crowd, He sways them with harmony merry and loud; He fills with his power all their hearts to the brim, Was aught ever heard like his fiddle and him? What an eager assembly! what an empire is this! The weary have life, and the hungry have bliss ; The mourner is cheered, and the anxious have rest; And the guilt-burdened soul is no longer opprest. As the Moon brightens round her the clouds of the night, So He, where he stands, is a centre of light; That errand-bound'Prentice was passing in haste,— What matter! he's caught, - and his time runs to waste; The Newsman is stopped, though he stops on the fret ; And the half-breathless Lamp-lighter,—he's in the net! The Porter sits down on the weight which he bore; The Lass with her barrow wheels hither her store; If a thief could be here, he might pilfer at ease; She sees the Musician, 't is all that she sees! He stands, backed by the wall; — he abates not his din; His hat gives him vigor, with boons dropping in, From the old and the young, from the poorest; and there! The one-pennied Boy has his penny to spare. O blest are the hearers, and proud be the hand Of the pleasure it spreads through so thankful a band! I am glad for him, blind as he is! all the while, If they speak 't is to praise, and they praise with a smile. That tall Man, a giant in bulk and in height, |