TO A GENTLEMAN [WILLIAM WORDSWORTH] COMPOSED ON THE NIGHT AFTER HIS RECITATION OF A POEM ON THE GROWTH OF AN INDIVIDUAL MIND FRIEND of the wise! and Teacher of the Good! Into my heart have I received that Lay More than historic, that prophetic Lay Were rising; or by secret mountainstreams, The guides and the companions of thy way! Of more than Fancy, of the Social Sense Distending wide, and man beloved as man, Where France in all her towns lay vibrating Like some becalmed bark beneath the burst 30 Wherein (high theme by thee first sung Of Heaven's immediate thunder, when aright) Of the foundations and the building up Of a Human Spirit thou hast dared to tell What may be told, to the understanding mind 60 Not learnt, but native, her own natural notes! Ah! as I listen'd with a heart forlorn, The pulses of my being beat anew: And even as life returns upon the drowned, Life's joy rekindling roused a throng of pains Keen pangs of Love, awakening as a babe Turbulent, with an outcry in the heart; And fears self-willed, that shunned the eye of hope; And hope that scarce would know itself from fear; Sense of past youth, and manhood come in vain, And genius given, and knowledge won in vain ; 70 And all which I had culled in woodwalks wild, And all which patient toil had reared, and all, Commune with thee had opened outbut flowers ill Such intertwine beseems beseems triumphal wreaths Strew'd before thy advancing! Nor do thou, Sage Bard! impair the memory of that hour Of thy communion with my nobler mind By pity or grief, already felt too long! Nor let my words import more blame [is nigh The tumult rose and ceased: for Peace Where wisdom's voice has found than needs. Strewed on my corse, and borne upon Outspread and bright, yet swelling to my bier, In the same coffin, for the self-same grave! And when-O Friend! my comforter and guide! That way no more! and ill beseems Strong in thyself, and powerful to give Who came a welcomer in herald's Thy long sustained Song finally closed, And thy deep voice had ceased-yet guise, Singing of glory, and futurity, To wander back on such unhealthful road, C thou thyself Wert still before my eyes, and round us both N A DAY-DREAM My eyes make pictures, when they are shut : I see a fountain, large and fair, A willow and a ruined hut, And thee, and me and Mary there. O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow! Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow! A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed, And that and summer well agree: And lo! where Mary leans her head, Two dear names carved upon the tree ! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow : Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow. 'Twas day! but now few, large, and bright, The stars are round the crescent moon ! And now it is a dark warm night, The balmiest of the month of June! A glow-worm fall'n, and on the marge remounting Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain. O ever-ever be thou blest ! For dearly, Asra! love I thee! This brooding warmth across my breast, This depth of tranquil bliss-ah, me! Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither, But in one quiet room we three are still together. The shadows dance upon the wall, By the still dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber moveless all! And now they melt to one deep shade! But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee: I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee! Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow! But let me check this tender lay Which none may hear but she and thou! Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming, Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women! ? 1807. TO TWO SISTERS [MRS. MORGAN AND MISS BRENT] A WANDERER'S FAREWELL To know, to esteem, to love,—and then to part Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart; Alas for some abiding-place of love, O'er which my spirit, like the mother dove, Might brood with warming wings! O fair! O kind! Sisters in blood, yet each with each intwined More close by sisterhood of heart and mind! Me disinherited in form and face Reflecting bright though cold your image Yet still she flutters o'er her grave's green there. slope : For Love's despair is but the ghost of Hope! Sweet Sisters! were you placed around one hearth With those, your other selves in shape and worth, Far rather would I sit in solitude, food, Two dear, dear Sisters, prized all price Fond recollections all my fond heart's above, Sisters, like you, with more than sisters' And dream of you, sweet Sisters! (ah! tear Even to the gates and inlets of his life! Love wept despairing o'er his nurse's But it is true, no less, that strenuous, bier. firm, |