Poems In Two Volumes.

Vol. 1.

by William Wordsworth.

TO THE DAISY.

In youth from rock to rock I went From hill to hill, in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent, Most pleas'd when most uneasy; But now my own delights I make, My thirst at every rill can slake, And gladly Nature's love partake Of thee, sweet Daisy!

When soothed a while by milder airs, Thee Winter in the garland wears 10 That thinly shades his few grey hairs; Spring cannot shun thee; Whole summer fields are thine by right; And Autumn, melancholy Wight!

Doth in thy crimson head delight When rains are on thee.

In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Thou greet'st the Traveller in the lane; If welcome once thou count'st it gain; Thou art not daunted, 20 Nor car'st if thou be set at naught; And oft alone in nooks remote We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.

Be Violets in their secret mews The flowers the wanton Zephyrs chuse; Proud be the Rose, with rains and dews Her head impearling; Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim, Yet hast not gone without thy fame; 30 Thou art indeed by many a claim The Poet's darling.

If to a rock from rains he fly, Or, some bright day of April sky, Imprison'd by hot sunshine lie Near the green holly, And wearily at length should fare; He need but look about, and there Thou art! a Friend at hand, to scare His melancholy. 40

A hundred times, by rock or bower, Ere thus I have lain couch'd an hour, Have I derived from thy sweet power Some apprehension; Some steady love; some brief delight; Some memory that had taken flight; Some chime of fancy wrong or right; Or stray invention.

If stately pa.s.sions in me burn, And one chance look to Thee should turn, 50 I drink out of an humbler urn A lowlier pleasure; The homely sympathy that heeds The common life, our nature breeds; A wisdom fitted to the needs Of hearts at leisure.

When, smitten by the morning ray, I see thee rise alert and gay, Then, chearful Flower! my spirits play With kindred motion: 60 At dusk, I've seldom mark'd thee press The ground, as if in thankfulness, Without some feeling, more or less, Of true devotion.

And all day long I number yet, All seasons through, another debt, Which I wherever thou art met, To thee am owing; An instinct call it, a blind sense; A happy, genial influence, 70 Coming one knows not how nor whence, Nor whither going.

Child of the Year! that round dost run Thy course, bold lover of the sun, And chearful when the day's begun As morning Leveret, Thou long the Poet's praise shalt gain; Thou wilt be more belov'd by men In times to come; thou not in vain Art Nature's Favorite. 80

LOUISA.

I met Louisa in the shade; And, having seen that lovely Maid, Why should I fear to say That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong; And down the rocks can leap along, Like rivulets in May?

And she hath smiles to earth unknown; Smiles, that with motion of their own Do spread, and sink, and rise; That come and go with endless play, 10 And ever, as they pa.s.s away, Are hidden in her eyes.

She loves her fire, her Cottage-home; Yet o'er the moorland will she roam In weather rough and bleak; And when against the wind she strains, Oh! might I kiss the mountain rains That sparkle on her cheek.

Take all that's mine 'beneath the moon', If I with her but half a noon 20 May sit beneath the walls Of some old cave, or mossy nook, When up she winds along the brook, To hunt the waterfalls.

FIDELITY.

A barking sound the Shepherd hears, A cry as of a Dog or Fox; He halts, and searches with his eyes Among the scatter'd rocks: And now at distance can discern A stirring in a brake of fern; From which immediately leaps out A Dog, and yelping runs about.

The Dog is not of mountain breed; It's motions, too, are wild and shy; 10 With something, as the Shepherd thinks, Unusual in its' cry: Nor is there any one in sight All round, in Hollow or on Height; Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear; What is the Creature doing here?

It was a Cove, a huge Recess, That keeps till June December's snow; A lofty Precipice in front, A silent Tarn [1] below! 20 Far in the bosom of Helvellyn, Remote from public Road or Dwelling, Pathway, or cultivated land; From trace of human foot or hand.

[Footnote 1: A Tarn is a small Mere or Lake mostly high up in the mountains.]

There, sometimes does a leaping Fish Send through the Tarn a lonely chear; The Crags repeat the Raven's croak, In symphony austere; Thither the Rainbow comes, the Cloud; And Mists that spread the flying shroud; 30 And Sun-beams; and the sounding blast, That, if it could, would hurry past, But that enormous Barrier binds it fast.

Not knowing what to think, a while The Shepherd stood: then makes his way Towards the Dog, o'er rocks and stones, As quickly as he may; Nor far had gone before he found A human skeleton on the ground, Sad sight! the Shepherd with a sigh 40 Looks round, to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks, The Man had fallen, that place of fear!

At length upon the Shepherd's mind It breaks, and all is clear: He instantly recall'd the Name, And who he was, and whence he came; Remember'd, too, the very day On which the Traveller pa.s.s'd this way.

But hear a wonder now, for sake 50 Of which this mournful Tale I tell!

A lasting monument of words This wonder merits well.

The Dog, which still was hovering nigh, Repeating the same timid cry, This Dog had been through three months' s.p.a.ce A Dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain that since the day On which the Traveller thus had died The Dog had watch'd about the spot, 60 Or by his Master's side: How nourish'd here through such long time He knows, who gave that love sublime, And gave that strength of feeling, great Above all human estimate.

_SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT_

She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleam'd 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 chearful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay. 10

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. 20

And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A Being breathing thoughtful breath; A Traveller betwixt life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength and skill; A perfect Woman; n.o.bly plann'd, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light. 30

_The REDBREAST and the b.u.t.tERFLY_.

Art thou the Bird whom Man loves best, The pious Bird with the scarlet breast, Our little English Robin; The Bird that comes about our doors When Autumn winds are sobbing?

Art thou the Peter of Norway Boors?

Their Thomas in Finland, And Russia far inland?

The Bird, whom by some name or other All men who know thee call their Brother, 10 The Darling of Children and men?

Could Father Adam open his eyes, And see this sight beneath the skies, He'd wish to close them again.

If the b.u.t.terfly knew but his friend Hither his flight he would bend, And find his way to me Under the branches of the tree: In and out, he darts about; His little heart is throbbing: 20 Can this be the Bird, to man so good, Our consecrated Robin!

That, after their bewildering, Did cover with leaves the little children, So painfully in the wood?

What ail'd thee Robin that thou could'st pursue A beautiful Creature, That is gentle by nature?