[Footnote A: See the 'Memoirs of William Wordsworth', by Christopher Wordsworth (1851), vol. i. pp. 10-31.--ED]

[Footnote B: Compare the 'Ode, composed in January 1816', stanza v.--Ed.]

[Variant 1:

1832.

....shall 1815.]

[Variant 2:

1815.

That, when the close of life draws near, And I must quit this earthly sphere, If in that hour a tender tie MS.]

[Variant 3:

1845.

Thus, when the Sun, prepared for rest, Hath gained the precincts of the West, Though his departing radiance fail To illuminate the hollow Vale, 1815.

Thus, from the precincts of the West, The Sun, when sinking down to rest, 1832.

... while sinking ... 1836.

Hath reached the precincts ... MS.]

[Variant 4:

1815.

A lingering l.u.s.tre fondly throws 1832.

The edition of 1845 reverts to the reading of 1815.]

[Variant 5:

1815.

On the dear mountain-tops ... 1820.

The edition of 1845 returns to the text of 1815.]

WRITTEN IN VERY EARLY YOUTH

Composed 1786. [A]--Published 1807 [B]

From 1807 to 1843 this was placed by Wordsworth in his group of "Miscellaneous Sonnets." In 1845, it was transferred to the cla.s.s of "Poems written in Youth." It is doubtful if it was really written in "'very' early youth." Its final form, at any rate, may belong to a later period.--Ed.

Calm is all nature as a resting wheel.

The kine are couched upon the dewy gra.s.s; The horse alone, seen dimly as I pa.s.s, Is cropping audibly [1] his later meal: [C]

Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal 5 O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky.

Now, in this blank of things, a harmony, Home-felt, and home-created, comes [2] to heal That grief for which the senses still supply Fresh food; for only then, when memory 10 Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain Those busy cares that would allay my pain; Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel The officious touch that makes me droop again.

[Footnote A: The date of the composition of this fragment is quite unknown.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: But previously, in 'The Morning Post', Feb. 13, 1802.--Ed.]

[Footnote C: Canon Ainger calls attention to the fact that there is here a parallel, possibly a reminiscence, from the 'Nocturnal Reverie' of the Countess of Winchelsea.

Whose stealing pace and lengthened shade we fear, Till torn-up forage in his teeth we hear.