A nutting-crook in hand, and turn'd my steps Motley accoutrement-of power to smile At thorns, and brakes, and brambles,—and, in truth, Droop'd with its wither'd leaves, ungracious sign Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung, The banquet,- -or beneath the trees I sat And with my cheek on one of those green stones And dragg'd to earth both branch and bough, with crash Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower, The silent trees and the intruding sky. Then, dearest maiden! move along these shades SHE was a phantom of delight To be a moment's ornament; I saw her upon nearer view, Her household motions light and free, A countenance in which did meet O NIGHTINGALE! thou surely art These notes of thine-they pierce and pierce; THREE years she grew in sun and shower, This child I to myself will take: "Myself will to my darling be In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, To kindle or restrain. "She shall be sportive as the fawn, That wild with glee across the lawn Or up the mountain springs; 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 E'en 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 How soon my Lucy's race was run! She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene; The memory of what has been, And never more will be. |