'Twas all in vain, a useless matter, And blankets were about him pinned; Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter, 115 Like a loose cas.e.m.e.nt in the wind.

And Harry's flesh it fell away; And all who see him say, 'tis plain That, live as long as live he may, He never will be warm again. 120

No word to any man he utters, A-bed or up, to young or old; But ever to himself he mutters, "Poor Harry Gill is very cold."

A-bed or up, by night or day; 125 His teeth they chatter, chatter still.

Now think, ye farmers all, I pray, Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill! [A]

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1802.

Auld 1798.]

[Variant 2:

1836

--This woman dwelt in Dorsetshire, Her hut was on a cold hill-side, And in that country coals are dear, For they come far by wind and tide. 1798.

Remote from sheltering village green, Upon a bleak hill-side, she dwelt, Where from sea-blasts the hawthorns lean, And h.o.a.ry dews are slow to melt. 1820.

On a hill's northern side she dwelt. 1827.]

[Variant 3.

1820.

... dwelt ... 1798.]

[Variant 4.

1827.

... wood ... 1798]

[Variant 5.

1836.

And ... 1798.]

[Variant 6.

1827.

The bye-road ... 1798.]

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Compare the many entries about "gathering sticks" in the Alfoxden woods, in Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal.--Ed.]

HER EYES ARE WILD

Composed 1798.--Published 1798.

[Written at Alfoxden. The subject was reported to me by a lady of Bristol, who had seen the poor creature.--I. F.]

From 1798 to 1805 this poem was published under the t.i.tle of 'The Mad Mother'.

In the editions of 1815 and 1820 it was ranked as one of the "Poems founded on the Affections." In the editions of 1827 and 1832, it was cla.s.sed as one of the "Poems of the Imagination." In 1836 and afterwards, it was replaced among the "Poems founded on the Affections."--Ed.

I Her eyes are wild, her head is bare, The sun has burnt her coal-black hair; Her eyebrows have a rusty stain, And she came far from over the main.

She has a baby on her arm, 5 Or else she were alone: And underneath the hay-stack warm, And on the greenwood stone, She talked and sung the woods among, And it was in the English tongue. 10

II "Sweet babe! they say that I am mad But nay, my heart is far too glad; And I am happy when I sing Full many a sad and doleful thing: Then, lovely baby, do not fear! 15 I pray thee have no fear of me; But safe as in a cradle, here My lovely baby! thou shalt be: To thee I know too much I owe; I cannot work thee any woe. 20

III "A fire was once within my brain; And in my head a dull, dull pain; And fiendish faces, one, two, three, Hung at my breast, [1] and pulled at me; But then there came a sight of joy; 25 It came at once to do me good; I waked, and saw my little boy, My little boy of flesh and blood; Oh joy for me that sight to see!

For he was here, and only he. 30

IV "Suck, little babe, oh suck again!