Poems In Two Volumes, vol 2 | Page 6

William Wordsworth
be near it:?Such heart was in her, being then?A little Prattler among men.?The Blessing of my later years?Was with me when a Boy;?She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;?And humble cares, and delicate fears;?A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;
And love, and thought, and joy. 20
10. GIPSIES.
Yet are they here?--the same unbroken knot?Of human Beings, in the self-same spot!
Men, Women, Children, yea the frame?Of the whole Spectacle the same!?Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light:?Now deep and red, the colouring of night;
That on their Gipsy-faces falls,?Their bed of straw and blanket-walls.?--Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours, are gone while I?Have been a Traveller under open sky, 10
Much witnessing of change and chear,?Yet as I left I find them here!
The weary Sun betook himself to rest.?--Then issued Vesper from the fulgent West,
Outshining like a visible God?The glorious path in which he trod.?And now, ascending, after one dark hour,?And one night's diminution of her power,
Behold the mighty Moon! this way?She looks as if at them--but they 20 Regard not her:--oh better wrong and strife,?Better vain deeds or evil than such life!
The silent Heavens have goings on;?The stars have tasks--but these have none.
11. TO THE CUCKOO.
O 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,?I hear thy restless shout:?From hill to hill it seems to pass,?About, and all about!
To me, no Babbler with a tale?Of sunshine and of flowers, 10 Thou tellest, Cuckoo! in the vale?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 listen'd to; that Cry?Which made me look a thousand ways;?In bush, and tree, and sky. 20
To seek thee did I often rove?Through woods and on the green;?And thou wert still a hope, a love;?Still long'd 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 30 An unsubstantial, faery place;?That is fit home for Thee!
12. TO A BUTTERFLY.
I've watch'd you now a full half hour,?Self-pois'd upon that yellow flower;?And, little Butterfly! indeed?I know not if you sleep, or feed.?How motionless! not frozen seas?More motionless! and then?What joy awaits you, when the breeze?Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
This plot of Orchard-ground is ours; 10 My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;?Stop here whenever you are weary,?And rest as in a sanctuary!?Come often to us, fear no wrong;?Sit near us on the bough!?We'll talk of sunshine and of song;?And summer days, when we were young,?Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now!
13.
It is no Spirit who from Heaven hath flown,?And is descending on his embassy;?Nor Traveller gone from Earth the Heavens to espy!?'Tis Hesperus--there he stands with glittering crown,?First admonition that the sun is down!?For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by;?A few are near him still--and now the sky,?He hath it to himself--'tis all his own.?O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought?Within me when I recognised thy light;?A moment I was startled at the sight:?And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought?That I might step beyond my natural race?As thou seem'st now to do; might one day trace?Some ground not mine; and, strong her strength above,?My Soul, an Apparition in the place,?Tread there, with steps that no one shall reprove!
THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY; WITH OTHER POEMS.
THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY.
(A Tale told by the Fire-side.)
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,?We've romp'd enough, my little Boy!?Jane hangs her head upon my breast,?And you shall bring your Stool and rest,
This corner is your own.
There! take your seat, and let me see?That you can listen quietly;?And as I promised I will tell?That strange adventure which befel
A poor blind Highland Boy. 10
A Highland Boy!--why call him so??Because, my Darlings, ye must know,?In land where many a mountain towers,?Far higher hills than these of ours!
He from his birth had liv'd.
He ne'er had seen one earthly sight;?The sun, the day; the stars, the night;?Or tree, or butterfly, or flower,?Or fish in stream, or bird in bower,
Or woman, man, or child. 20
And yet he neither drooped nor pined,?Nor had a melancholy mind;?For God took pity on the Boy,?And was his friend; and gave him joy
Of which we nothing know.
His Mother, too, no doubt, above?Her other Children him did love:?For, was she here, or was she there,?She thought of him with constant care,
And more than Mother's love. 30
And proud she was of heart, when clad?In crimson stockings, tartan plaid,?And bonnet with a feather gay,?To Kirk he on the sabbath day
Went hand in hand with her.
A Dog, too, had he; not for need,?But one to play with and to feed;?Which would have led him,
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