He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, And listened to the wind; and, as before, Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, And for the land, his small inheritance. And to that hollow dell from time to time Did he repair, to build the Fold of which His flock had need. Tis not forgotten yet The pity which was then in every heart For the old Man-and 'tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone. There, by the Sheepfold, sometimes was he seen Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog, Then old, beside him, lying at his feet. The length of full seven years. from time to time, He at the building of this Sheepfold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died. Three years, or little more, did Isabel Survive her Husband: at her death the estate Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. The Cottage which was named the EVENING STAR Is gone-the ploughshare has been through the ground On which it stood; great changes have been wrought In all the neighborhood:-yet the oak is left That grew beside their door; and the remains Of the unfinished Sheepfold may be seen Beside the boisterous brook of Greenhead Ghyll. 1800. 1800. THE SPARROWS' NEST Written in the Orchard, Town-end, Grasmere. At the end of the garden of my father's house at Cockermouth was a high terrace that com manded a fine view of the river Derwent and Cockermouth Castle. This was our favorite play-ground. The terrace-wall, a low one, was covered with closely-elipt privet and roses, which gave an almost impervious shelter to birds that built their nests there. The latter of these stanzas alludes to one of those nests. (Wordsworth.) BEHOLD, within the leafy shade, WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF BROTHER'S WATER Extempore. This little poem was a favorite with Joanna Baillie. (Wordsworth) Compare the description of the same scene by Wordsworth's sister: "There was the gentle flowing of the stream, the glittering, lively lake, green fields without a living creature to be seen on them; behind us, a flat pasture with fortytwo cattle feeding; to our left, the road leading to the hamlet. No smoke there, the sun shone on the bare roofs. The people were at work ploughing, harrowing, and sowing;... a dog barking now and then, cocks crowing, birds twittering, the snow in patches at the top of the highest hills, yellow palms, purple and green twigs on the birches, ashes with their glittering spikes, stems quite bare. The hawthorn a bright green, with black stems under the oak. The moss of the oak glossy. We went on. William finished his poem before we got to the foot of Kirkstone." (Dorothy Wordsworth's Jour nal, April 16, 1802.) THE Cock is crowing, 1 Dorothy Wordsworth, called Emmeline also in the poem Toa Butterfly. See the beautiful lines To my Sister, p. 8, the last lines of the Sonnet p. 31, and notes on the Sonnets of 1802. Written at Town-end, Grasmere. It is remarkable that this flower, coming out so early in the spring as it does, and so bright and beauti ful, and in such profusion, should not have been noticed earlier in English verse. What adds much to the interest that attends it is its habit of shutting itself up and opening out according to the degree of light and temperature of the air. (Wordsworth.) PANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Eyes of some men travel far Up and down the heavens they go, Modest, yet withal an Elf Ere a leaf is on a bush, In the time before the thrush Has a thought about her nest, Poets, vain men in their mood! Who stirs little out of doors, Comfort have thou of thy merit, But 'tis good enough for thee. Ill befall the yellow flowers, Prophet of delight and mirth, TO THE SAME FLOWER PLEASURES newly found are sweet Thou must needs, I think, have had, Praise of which I nothing know. I have not a doubt but he, Set the sign-board in a blaze, Soon as gentle breezes bring Often have I sighed to measure Blithe of heart, from week to week Drawn by what peculiar spell, Under this he carried a bundle, and had an apron on and a night-cap. His face was interesting. He had dark eyes and a long nose. John, who afterwards met him at Wytheburn, took him for a Jew. He was of Scotch parents, but had been born in the army. He had had a wife, and she was a good woman, and it pleased God to bless us with ten children. All these were dead but one, of whom he had not heard for many years, a sailor. His trade was to gather leeches, but now leeches were scarce, and he had not strength for it. He lived by begging, and was making his way to Carlisle, where he should buy a few godly books to sell. He said leeches were very scarce, partly owing to this dry season, but many years they have been scarce. He supposed it owing to their being much sought after, that they did not breed fast, and were of slow growth. Leeches were formerly 2s. 6d. per 100; they are now 30s. He had been hurt in driving a cart, his leg broken, his body driven over, his skull fractured. He felt no pain till he recovered from his first insensibility.... It was then late in the evening, when the light was just going away." (Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, October 3, 1800.) As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie So that it seems a thing endued with sense: Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself; Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor dead, Nor all asleep, in his extreme old age: A more than human weight upon his frame had cast. Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale face, Upon a long gray staff of shaven wood: And, still as I drew near with gentle расе, Upon the margin of that moorish flood Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood, That heareth not the loud winds when they call And moveth all together, if it move at all. At length, himself unsettling, he the pond Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look Upon the muddy water, which he conned, As if he had been reading in a book: And now a stranger's privilege I took; And, drawing to his side, to him did say, "This morning gives us promise of a glorious day." A gentle answer did the old Man make. In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew: And him with further words I thus be spake, "What occupation do you there pursue? This is a lonesome place for one like y e you.' Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise Broke from the sable orbs of his yetvivid eyes, His words came feebly, from a feeble chest, But each in solemn order followed each, |