CXXXVI.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 1770-1850.

HE dwelt among the untrodden ways

SHE

Beside the springs of Dove,

A maid whom there were none to praise,

And very few to love :

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh!

The difference to me.

CXXXVII.

O

TO THE CUCKOO.

BLITHE new-comer! I have heard,

I hear thee, and rejoice.

O Cuckoo shall I call thee bird,

Or but a wandering voice?

While I am lying on the grass
Thy two-fold shout I hear,

From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near.

Though babbling only to the vale,

Of sunshine and of flowers,

Thou bringest unto me a tale

Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the spring!

Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing,

A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my school-boy days

I listened to; that cry

Which made me look a thousand ways

In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen.

And I can listen to thee yet;

Can lie upon the plain

And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.

O blessed bird! the earth we pace

Again appears to be

An unsubstantial faery place;

That is fit home for thee!

CXXXVIII.

HE was a phantom of delight

SHE

When first she gleamed upon my sight;

A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament:

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight's too her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn ;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon nearer view,

A spirit, yet a woman too!

Her household motions light and free,

And steps of virgin-liberty;

A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;

For transient sorrows, simple wiles,

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright

With something of angelic light.

CXXXIX.

A

SLUMBER did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:

She seemed a thing that could not feel

The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees;

Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

CXL.

I

WANDERED lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay :

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed-and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.