Among thy mountains did I feel

The joy of my desire;

And she I cherished turned her wheel
Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed, The bowers where Lucy played;

And thine is too the last green field

That Lucy's eyes surveyed.

IV.

THREE 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
The girl, in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower
Shall feel an overseeing power

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,
And hers the silence and the calm

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.

1799.

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.

v.

A SLUMBER did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:

She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees;

Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks and stones and trees.

1799.

1799.

SOME POEMS RELATING TO
MRS. WORDSWORTH.

I.

A FAREWELL.

COMPOSED IN THE YEAR 1802, BEFORE THE MARRIAGE OF WORDSWORTH.

FAREWELL, thou little nook of mountain-ground,
Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair

Of that magnificent temple which doth bound
One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare;
Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair,

The loveliest spot that man hath ever found,

Farewell! we leave thee to Heaven's peaceful care, Thee, and the cottage which thou dost surround.

Our boat is safely anchored by the shore,

And there will safely ride when we are gone: The flowering shrubs that deck our humble door Will prosper, though untended and alone.

Fields, goods, and far-off chattels we have none: These narrow bounds contain our private store

Of things earth makes, and sun doth shine upon; Here are they in our sight-we have no more.

Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell! For two months now in vain we shall be sought; We leave you here in solitude to dwell

With these our latest gifts of tender thought; Thou, like the morning, in thy saffron coat, Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell! Whom from the borders of the lake we brought, And placed together, near our rocky well.

We go for one to whom ye will be dear;
And she will prize this bower, this Indian shed,
Our own contrivance, building without peer!
A gentle maid, whose heart is lowly bred,
Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered
With joyousness and with a thoughtful cheer
Will come to you, to you herself will wed,
And love the blessed life that we lead here.

Dear spot! which we have watched with tender heed,
Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blown
Among the distant mountains, flower and weed,
Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own,
Making all kindness registered and known;
Thou for our sakes, though Nature's child indeed,
Fair in thyself and beautiful alone,

Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need.

And O most constant yet most fickle place,

That hast thy wayward moods, as thou dost show

To them who look not daily on thy face;

Who, being loved, in love no bounds dost know, And sayest, when we forsake thee, “Let them go!" Thou easy-hearted thing, with thy wild race

Of weeds and flowers, till we return be slow, And travel with the year at a soft pace.

Help us to tell her tales of years gone by,

And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best; Joy will be flown in its mortality;

Something must stay to tell us of the rest.

Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock's breast Glittered at evening like a starry sky;

And in this bush our sparrow built her nest,

Of which I sang one song that will not die.

O happy garden! whose seclusion deep
Hath been so friendly to industrious hours;
And to soft slumbers that did gently steep

Our spirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers,
And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers;
Two burning months let summer overleap,

And, coming back with her who will be ours, Into thy bosom we again shall creep.

1802.

II.

"SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT."

SHE was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;

A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament.

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful dawn-
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;

A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright

With something of an angel light.

1804.

III.

THEREAFTER came

One.

She came, no more a phantom to adorn
A moment, but an inmate of the heart,
And yet a spirit, there for me enshrined
To penetrate the lofty and the low;
Even as one essence of pervading light
Shines, in the brightest of ten thousand stars.
-The Prelude. Book XIV.

IV.

By her exulting outside look of youth

And placid under-countenance, first endeared;
That other spirit, Coleridge! who is now

So near to us, that meek confiding heart,

So reverenced by us both.

V.

--The Prelude. Book VI.

O DEARER far than light and life are dear,
Full oft our human foresight I deplore;
Trembling, through my unworthiness, with fear
That friends, by death disjoined, may meet no more!

Misgivings, hard to vanquish or control,

Mix with the day and cross the hour of rest;
While all the future, for thy purer soul,
With "sober certainities" of love is blest.

If a faint sigh, not meant for human ear,
Tell that these words thy humbleness offend,
Cherish me still-else faltering in the rear
Of a steep march, uphold me to the end.