Even here I feel it, even this Plant To comfort and to peace. VI. He would have loved thy modest grace, Meek Flower! To him I would have said, "It grows upon its native bed Beside our Parting-place; There, cleaving to the ground, it lies, With multitude of purple eyes, Spangling a cushion green like moss; But we will see it, joyful tide! The mountain we will cross." VII. -Brother and friend, if verse of mine Have power to make thy virtues known, Here let a monumental Stone Stand, sacred as a Shrine; And to the few who pass this way, Long as these mighty rocks endure, O, do not thou too fondly brood, On any earthly hope, however pure! mes! that other bards may see ely visions by thy side w, fair river! come to me. He, fair stream! for ever so uiet soul on all bestowing, l our minds for ever flow y deep waters now are flowing. thought!-Yet be as now thou art, bright, how solemn, how serene! let us, as we float along, im suspend the dashing oar; pray that never child of song know that Poet's sorrows more. calm! how still! the only sound, dripping of the oar suspended! e evening darkness gathers round, itue's holiest Powers attended "MY HEART LEAPS UP." My heart leaps up when I behold So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, The Child is father of the Man, ALICE FELL. THE post-boy drove with fierce career, For threatening clouds the moon had drowned; When, as we hurried on, my ear Was smitten with a startling sound. As if the wind blew many ways, At length I to the boy called out; The boy then smacked his whip, and fast The horses scampered through the rain; The cry, I bade him halt again. Forthwith alighting on the ground, "Whence comes," said I, "this piteous moan ?" And there a little Girl I found, Sitting behind the chaise, alone. "My cloak !" no other word she spake, But loud and bitterly she wept, As if her innocent heart would break; And down from off her seat she leapt. "What ails you, child?" She sobbed, "Look here!" I saw it in the wheel entangled, A weather-beaten rag as e'er From any garden scarecrow dangled. There, twisted between nave and spoke, "And whither are you going, child, Insensible to all relief Sat the poor girl, and forth did send Sob after sob, as if her grief "My child, in Durham do you dwell?" "And I to Durham, Sir, belong." The chaise drove on; our journey's end Up to the tavern door we post; "And let it be of duffel gray, As warm a cloak as man can sell !" |