Ed.]

[Variant 1:

1827.

Is up, and cropping yet ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1838.

... seems ... 1807.]

AN EVENING WALK

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY

Composed 1787-9. [A]--Published 1793

[The young Lady to whom this was addressed was my Sister. It was composed at School, and during my first two College vacations. There is not an image in it which I have not observed; and, now in my seventy-third year, I recollect the time and place, when most of them were noticed. I will confine myself to one instance:

Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale, Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,-- The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks.

I was an eye-witness of this for the first time while crossing the Pa.s.s of Dunmail Raise. Upon second thought, I will mention another image:

And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines.

This is feebly and imperfectly expressed, but I recollect distinctly the very spot where this first struck me. It was on the way between Hawkshead and Ambleside, and gave me extreme pleasure. The moment was important in my poetical history; for I date from it my consciousness of the infinite variety of natural appearances which had been unnoticed by the poets of any age or country, so far as I was acquainted with them; and I made a resolution to supply in some degree the deficiency. I could not have been at that time above fourteen years of age. The description of the swans, that follows, was taken from the daily opportunities I had of observing their habits, not as confined to the gentleman's park, but in a state of nature. There were two pairs of them that divided the lake of Esthwaite, and its in-and-out flowing streams, between them, never trespa.s.sing a single yard upon each other's separate domain. They were of the old magnificent species, bearing in beauty and majesty about the same relation to the Thames swan which that does to the goose. It was from the remembrance of those n.o.ble creatures, I took, thirty years after, the picture of the swan which I have discarded from the poem of 'Dion'. [B] While I was a schoolboy, the late Mr. Curwen introduced a little fleet of these birds, but of the inferior species, to the lake of Windermere. Their princ.i.p.al home was about his own island; but they sailed about into remote parts of the lake, and either from real or imagined injury done to the adjoining fields, they were got rid of at the request of the farmers and proprietors, but to the great regret of all who had become attached to them from noticing their beauty and quiet habits. I will conclude my notice of this poem by observing that the plan of it has not been confined to a particular walk, or an individual place; a proof (of which I was unconscious at the time) of my unwillingness to submit the poetic spirit to the chains of fact and real circ.u.mstance. The country is idealised rather than described in any one of its local aspects.--I. F.]

The t.i.tle of this poem, as first published in 1793, was 'An Evening Walk. An epistle; in verse. Addressed to a Young Lady, from the Lakes of the North of England. By W. Wordsworth, B.A., of St. John's, Cambridge'.

Extracts from it were published in all the collected editions of the poems under the general t.i.tle of "Juvenile Pieces," from 1815 to 1843; and, in 1845 and 1849, of "Poems written in Youth." The following prefatory note to the "Juvenile Pieces" occurs in the editions 1820 to 1832.

"They are reprinted with some unimportant alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their publication. It would have been easy to amend them, in many pa.s.sages, both as to sentiment and expression, and I have not been altogether able to resist the temptation: but attempts of this kind are made at the risk of injuring those characteristic features, which, after all, will be regarded as the princ.i.p.al recommendation of juvenile poems."

To this, Wordsworth added, in 1836,

"The above, which was written some time ago, scarcely applies to the Poem, 'Descriptive Sketches', as it now stands. The corrections, though numerous, are not, however, such as to prevent its retaining with propriety a place in the cla.s.s of 'Juvenile Pieces.'"

In May 1794 Wordsworth wrote to his friend Mathews,

"It was with great reluctance that I sent these two little works into the world in so imperfect a state. But as I had done nothing at the University, I thought these little things might show that I _could_ do something."

Wordsworth's notes to this poem are printed from the edition of 1793.

Slight variations in the text of these notes in subsequent editions, in the spelling of proper names, and in punctuation, are not noted.--Ed.

'General Sketch of the Lakes--Author's regret of his Youth which was pa.s.sed amongst them--Short description of Noon--Cascade--Noon-tide Retreat--Precipice and sloping Lights--Face of Nature as the Sun declines--Mountain-farm, and the c.o.c.k--Slate-quarry--Sunset--Superst.i.tion of the Country connected with that moment--Swans--Female Beggar--Twilight-sounds--Western Lights--Spirits--Night--Moonlight--Hope--Night-sounds--Conclusion'.

THE POEM

Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove; Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore; [1]

Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads, 5 To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads; Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds, Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland bounds; Where, undisturbed by winds, Winander [C] sleeps [2]

'Mid cl.u.s.tering isles, and holly-sprinkled steeps; 10 Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's sh.o.r.e, And memory of departed pleasures, more.

Fair scenes, erewhile, I taught, a happy child, The echoes of your rocks my carols wild: The spirit sought not then, in cherished sadness, 15 A cloudy subst.i.tute for failing gladness. [3]

In youth's keen [4] eye the livelong day was bright, The sun at morning, and the stars at night, Alike, when first the bittern's hollow bill Was heard, or woodc.o.c.ks [D] roamed the moonlight hill. [5] 20

In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain, [6]

And hope itself was all I knew of pain; For then, the inexperienced heart would beat [7]

At times, while young Content forsook her seat, And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed, 25 Through pa.s.ses yet unreached, a brighter road. [8]

Alas! the idle tale of man is found Depicted in the dial's moral round; Hope with reflection blends her social rays [9]

To gild the total tablet of his days; 30 Yet still, the sport of some malignant power, He knows but from its shade the present hour.

[10]

But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain?

To show what pleasures yet to me remain, [11]

Say, will my Friend, with unreluctant ear, [12] 35 The history of a poet's evening hear?

When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still, Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill, And shades of deep-embattled clouds were seen, 40 Spotting the northern cliffs with lights between; When crowding cattle, checked by rails that make A fence far stretched into the shallow lake, Lashed the cool water with their restless tails, Or from high points of rock looked out for fanning gales;[13] 45 When school-boys stretched their length upon the green; And round the broad-spread oak, a glimmering scene, In the rough fern-clad park, the herded deer [14]

Shook the still-twinkling tail and glancing ear; When horses in the sunburnt intake [E] stood, 50 And vainly eyed below the tempting flood, Or tracked the pa.s.senger, in mute distress, With forward neck the closing gate to press--[15]

Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill Brightens with water-breaks the hollow ghyll [F] [16] 55 As by enchantment, an obscure retreat [17]

Opened at once, and stayed my devious feet.

While thick above the rill the branches close, In rocky basin its wild waves repose, Inverted shrubs, [G] and moss of gloomy green, 60 Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between; And its own twilight softens the whole scene, [H]

Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine On withered briars that o'er the crags recline; [18]

Save where, with sparkling foam, a small cascade, 65 Illumines, from within, the leafy shade; [19]

Beyond, along the vista of the brook, Where antique roots its bustling course [20] o'erlook, The eye reposes on a secret bridge [J]

Half grey, half s.h.a.gged with ivy to its ridge; 70 There, bending o'er the stream, the listless swain Lingers behind his disappearing wain. [21]

--Did Sabine grace adorn my living line, Blandusia's praise, wild stream, should yield to thine!

Never shall ruthless minister of death 75 'Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath; No goblets shall, for thee, be crowned with flowers, No kid with piteous outcry thrill thy bowers; The mystic shapes that by thy margin rove A more benignant sacrifice approve-- 80 A mind, that, in a calm angelic mood Of happy wisdom, meditating good, Beholds, of all from her high powers required, Much done, and much designed, and more desired,-- Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined, 85 Entire affection for all human kind.

Dear Brook, [22] farewell! To-morrow's noon again Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain; But now the sun has gained his western road, And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad. 90