The clouds are at play in the azure space And their shadows at play on the bright-green vale, And here they stretch to the frolic chase, And there they roll on the easy gale. There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, On the leaping waters and gay young isles; Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away. TO THE SMALL CELANDINE* By William Wordsworth ANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies, They will have a place in story: 'Tis the little Celandine. Eyes of some men travel far For the finding of a star; Common Pilewort. Up and down the heavens they go, Modest, yet withal an Elf Bold, and lavish of thyself; Since we needs must first have met Ere a leaf is on a bush, In the time before the thrush When we've little warmth, or none. Poets, vain men in their mood! Travel with the multitude: Never heed them; I aver That they all are wanton wooers; Spring is coming, Thou art come! Comfort have thou of thy merit, But 'tis good enough for thee. Ill befall the yellow flowers, Prophet of delight and mirth, Ill-requited upon earth; Herald of a mighty band, THREE YEARS SHE GREW IN SUN AND SHOWER By William Wordsworth HREE years she grew in sun and shower Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This Child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse: and with me In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, To kindle or restrain. "She shall be sportive as the fawn "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 lend her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound "And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give 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. A slumber did my spirit seal, She seemed a thing that could not feel |