Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts

145 Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,

And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance-
If I should be where I no more can hear

Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these
gleams

Of past existence-wilt thou then forget

150 That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love-oh! with far deeper zeal
155 Of holier love. Nor will thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy
sake!

EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY

(1798)

"Why, William, on that old gray stone
Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone,
And dream your time away?

5 Where are your books?—that light bequeathed
To Beings else forlorn and blind!

Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed
From dead men to their kind.

You look round on your Mother Earth, 10 As if she for no purpose bore you;

As if you were her first-born birth,
And none had lived before you!"

་

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake,
When life was sweet, I knew not why,
15 To me my good friend Matthew spake,
And thus I made reply:

"The eye-it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,

20 Against or with our will.

Nor less I deem that there are Powers
Which of themselves our minds impress;
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness.

25 Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum
Of things forever speaking,
That nothing of itself will come,
But we must still be seeking?

-Then ask not wherefore, here, alone,

30 Conversing as I may,

I sit upon this old gray stone,
And dream my time away."

THE TABLES TURNED

AN EVENING SCENE ON THE SAME SUBJECT

(1798)

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:

Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

5 The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow

Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
10 Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:

15 Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless--
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
20 Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

25 Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;

Our meddling intellect

Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—
We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and of Art;

30 Close up those barren leaves;

Come forth, and bring with you a heart

That watches and receives.

THREE YEARS SHE GREW

(1799)

Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;

This Child I to myself will take;

5 She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own.

Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse: and with me
The Girl, in rock and plain,

10 In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power

To kindle or restrain.

She shall be sportive as the fawn That wild with glee across the lawn 15 Or up the mountain springs;

And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.

The floating clouds their state shall lend 20 To her; for her the willow bend;

Nor shall she fail to see

Even in the motions of the Storm,

Grace that shall mold the Maiden's form
By silent sympathy.

25 The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place

Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound

30 Shall pass into her face.

And vital feelings of delight

Shall rear her form to stately height,

Her virgin bosom swell;

Such thoughts to Lucy I will give

35 While she and I together live

Here in this happy dell.”

Thus Nature spake-The work was done-
How soon my Lucy's race was run!

She died, and left to me

40 This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;

The memory of what has been,

And never more will be.

SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS

(1799)

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love:

5 A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
-Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

10

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

MICHAEL

A Pastoral Poem

(1800)

If from the public way you turn your steps Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll, You will suppose that with an upright path Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent 5 The pastoral mountains front you, face to face. But, courage! for around that boisterous brook The mountains have all opened out themselves, And made a hidden valley of their own.