"She shall be sportive as the fawn And hers shall be the breathing balm, Of mute, insensate things. "The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see, Even in the motions of the Storm, Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy. "The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face. "And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give While she and I together live Here in this happy dell." Thus Nature spake.-The work was done.—— She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene; 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 thought What wealth the show to me had brought : For oft, when on my couch I lie XIII. THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN. AT the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: 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? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Bright volumes of vapor through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. 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; 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; |