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The storm came on before its time:

30 She wandered up and down;

And many a hill did Lucy climb:

But never reached the town.

The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;

35 But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide.

At daybreak on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;

And thence they saw the bridge of wood, 40 A furlong from their door.

They wept-and, turning homeward, cried, "In heaven we all shall meet;'

-When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.

Ten birthdays, when among the mountain slopes

Frost, and the breath of frosty wind, had snapped

The last autumnal crocus, 'twas my joy 310 With store of springes1 o'er my shoulder hung

To range the open heights where woodcocks run

Among the smooth green turf. Through half the night,

Scudding away from snare to snare, I plied That anxious visitation;-moon and stars 315 Were shining o'er my head. I was alone, And seemed to be a trouble to the peace That dwelt among them. Sometimes it befell

In these night wanderings, that a strong desire

O'erpowered my better reason, and the bird

Became my prey; and when the deed was done

45 Then downwards from the steep hill's edge 320 Which was the captive of another's toil
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedge,
And by the long stone wall;

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I heard among the solitary hills

Low breathings coming after me, and sounds

Of undistinguishable motion, steps 325 Almost as silent as the turf they trod.

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like one

Of mountain echoes did my boat move on;
Leaving behind her still, on either side,
365 Small circles glittering idly in the moon,
Until they melted all into one track
Of sparkling light. But now,
who rows,
Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point
With an unswerving line, I fixed my view
370 Upon the summit of a craggy ridge,

The horizon's utmost boundary; far above
Was nothing but the stars and the gray sky.
She was an elfin pinnace; lustily

I dipped my oars into the silent lake,
375 And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat
Went heaving through the water like a

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405

There hung a darkness, call it solitude
Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes
Remained, no pleasant images of trees,
Of sea or sky, no colors of green fields;
But huge and mighty forms, that do not live
Like living men, moved slowly through the
mind

By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.

Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!
Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought,
That givest to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion, not in vain
By day or star-light thus from my first
dawn

Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul;
Not with the mean and vulgar works of

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As if with voluntary power instinct 380 Upreared its head. I struck and struck 425

again,

And growing still in stature the grim shape
Towered up between me and the stars,
and still,

For so it seemed, with purpose of its own
And measured motion like a living thing, 430
385 Strode after me. With trembling oars
I turned,

And through the silent water stole my way
Back to the covert of the willow tree;
There in her mooring-place I left my
bark,-

At noon and 'mid the calm of summer
nights,

When, by the margin of the trembling lake,
Beneath the gloomy hills homeward I went
In solitude, such intercourse was mine;
Mine was it in the fields both day and night,
And by the waters, all the summer long.

And in the frosty season, when the sun
Was set, and visible for many a mile
The cottage windows blazed through twi-
light gloom,

I heeded not their summons: happy time
It was indeed for all of us-for me

It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud
The village clock tolled six,-I wheeled

about,

Proud and exulting like an untired horse That cares not for his home. All shod with steel,

We hissed along the polished ice in games

435 Confederate, imitative of the chase And woodland pleasures,-the resounding horn,

The pack loud chiming, and the hunted hare.

So through the darkness and the cold we flew,

And not a voice was idle; with the din 440 Smitten, the precipices rang aloud;

The leafless trees and every icy crag
Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound
Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the

stars

445 Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west

The orange sky of evening died away.
Not seldom from the uproar I retired
Into a silent bay, or sportively

Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous
throng,

450 To cut across the reflex of a star

That fled, and, flying still before me, gleamed

Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes, When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side 455 Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still

The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me-even as if the earth had
rolled

460 With visible motion her diurnal round!

Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched

Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep.

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85 And is forgotten; even then I felt
Gleams like the flashing of a shield;-
the earth

And common face of Nature spake to me Rememberable things; sometimes, 'tis true, By chance collisions and quaint accidents 590 (Like those ill-sorted unions, work supposed

Of evil-minded fairies), yet not vain
Nor profitless, if haply they impressed
Collateral objects and appearances,
Albeit lifeless then, and doomed to sleep
595 Until maturer seasons called them forth
To impregnate and to elevate the mind.

And sorrow is not there! The seasons came, And every season wheresoe'er I moved 290 Unfolded transitory qualities,

Which, but for this most watchful power
of love,

Had been neglected; left a register
Of permanent relations, else unknown.
Hence life, and change, and beauty, soli-
tude

295 More active even than "best society❞—
Society made sweet as solitude
By silent inobtrusive sympathies,
And gentle agitations of the mind
From manifold distinctions, difference

-And if the vulgar joy by its own weight 300 Perceived in things, where, to the unwatch-
Wearied itself out of the memory,

The scenes which were a witness of that joy
600 Remained in their substantial lineaments
Depicted on the brain, and to the eye
Were visible, a daily sight; and thus
By the impressive discipline of fear,
By pleasure and repeated happiness,
605 So frequently repeated, and by force
Of obscure feelings representative

Of things forgotten, these same scenes so
bright,

So beautiful, so majestic in themselves,
Though yet the day was distant, did become
610 Habitually dear, and all their forms
And changeful colors by invisible links
Were fastened to the affections.

265

From Book II. SCHOOL-TIME
From early days,
Beginning not long after that first time
In which, a babe, by intercourse of touch
I held mute dialogues with my mother's
heart,

I have endeavored to display the means 270 Whereby this infant sensibility,

Great birthright of our being, was in me
Augmented and sustained. Yet is a path
More difficult before me; and I fear
That in its broken windings we shall need
275 The chamois' sinews, and the eagle's wing:
For now a trouble came into my mind
From unknown causes. I was left alone
Seeking the visible world, nor knowing why.
The props of my affections were removed,
280 And yet the building stood, as if sustained
By its own spirit! All that I beheld
Was dear, and hence to finer influxes
The mind lay open, to a more exact
And close communion. Many are our joys
25 In youth, but oh! what happiness to live
When every hour brings palpable access
Of knowledge, when all knowledge is de-
light,

ful eye,

No difference is, and hence, from the same
source,

Sublimer joy! for I would walk alone,
Under the quiet stars, and at that time
Have felt whate'er there is of power in
sound

305 To breathe an elevated mood, by form

Or image unprofaned; and I would stand,
If the night blackened with a coming storm,
Beneath some rock, listening to notes that

are

The ghostly language of the ancient earth, 310 Or make their dim abode in distant winds. Thence did I drink the visionary power; And deem not profitless those fleeting moods

Of shadowy exultation: not for this, That they are kindred to our purer mind 315 And intellectual life; but that the soul, Remembering how she felt, but what she felt

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