| | |
| | | It seems a day, |
| | | (I speak of one from many singled out) |
| | | One of those heavenly days which cannot die, |
| | | When forth I sallied from our cottage-door,1 |
| 5 | | And with a wallet o'er my shoulder slung, |
| | | A nutting crook in hand, I turn'd my steps |
| | | Towards the distant woods, a Figure quaint, |
| | | Trick'd out in proud disguise of Beggar's weeds |
| | | Put on for the occasion, by advice |
| 10 | | And exhortation of my frugal Dame. |
| | | Motley accoutrements! of power to smile |
| | | At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, and, in truth, |
| | | More ragged than need was. Among the woods, |
| | | And o'er the pathless rocks, I forc'd my way |
| 15 | | Until, at length, I came to one dear nook |
| | | Unvisited, where not a broken bough |
| | | Droop'd with its wither'd leaves, ungracious sign |
| | | Of devastation, but the hazels rose |
| | | Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung, |
| 20 | | A virgin scene!-A little while I stood, |
| | | Breathing with such suppression of the heart |
| | | As joy delights in; and with wise restraint |
| | | Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed |
| | | The banquet, or beneath the trees I sate |
| 25 | | Among the flowers, and with the flowers I play'd; |
| | | A temper known to those, who, after long |
| | | And weary expectation, have been bless'd |
| | | With sudden happiness beyond all hope.- |
| | | -Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves |
| 30 | | The violets of five seasons re-appear |
| | | And fade, unseen by any human eye, |
| | | Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on |
| | | For ever, and I saw the sparkling foam, |
| | | And with my cheek on one of those green stones |
| 35 | | That, fleec'd with moss, beneath the shady trees, |
| | | Lay round me scatter'd like a flock of sheep, |
| | | I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound, |
| | | In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay |
| | | Tribute to ease, and, of its joy secure |
| 40 | | The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, |
| | | Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, |
| | | And on the vacant air. Then up I rose, |
| | | And dragg'd to earth both branch and bough, with crash |
| | | And merciless ravage; and the shady nook |
| 45 | | Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower |
| | | Deform'd and sullied, patiently gave up |
| | | Their quiet being: and unless I now |
| | | Confound my present feelings with the past, |
| | | Even then, when, from the bower I turn'd away, |
| 50 | | Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings |
| | | I felt a sense of pain when I beheld |
| | | The silent trees and the intruding sky. - |
| | | |
| | | Then, dearest Maiden! move along these shades |
| | | In gentleness of heart with gentle hand |
| 55 | | Touch, - for there is a Spirit in the woods. |
| | | |
| | | |
| | | 1 The house at which I was boarded during the time I was at School. |
First published 1800.
Contributed by Robert Clark.
