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And oh for thee, by pitying grace Checked oft-times in a devious race, 75 May He, who halloweth the place Where Man is laid,

Receive thy spirit in the embrace
For which it prayed!1

Sighing I turned away; but ere 80 Night fell I heard, or seemed to hear, Music that sorrow comes not near,

A ritual hymn,

Chanted in love that casts out fear

By Seraphim.

TO A HIGHLAND GIRL

AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND
1803
1807

Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower
Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
Twice seven consenting years have shed
Their utmost bounty on thy head:

5 And these gray rocks; that household

lawn;

Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn;
This fall of water that doth make

A murmur near the silent lake;
This little bay; a quiet road
10 That holds in shelter thy abode-
In truth together do ye seem

Like something fashioned in a dream;
Such Forms as from their covert peep
When earthly cares are laid asleep!
15 But, O fair creature! in the light
Of common day, so heavenly bright,
I bless thee, vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart;
God shield thee to thy latest years!
20 Thee, neither know I, nor thy peers;
And yet my eyes are filled with tears.

With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face, 25 In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here scattered, like a random seed, Remote from men, thou dost not need, 30 The embarrassed look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness:

Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread! 35 Soft smiles, by human kindness bred! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays;

1 See Burns's To Ruin, st. 2.

With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings 40 Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmoved in mind, 45 Seen birds of tempest-loving kindThus beating up against the wind.

What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell 50 Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways, and dress, A shepherd, thou a shepherdess! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality:

55 Thou art to me but as a wave

Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighborhood. 60 Thy elder brother I would be, What joy to hear thee, and to see!

Thy father-anything to thee!

Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace

Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had; and going hence 65 I bear away my recompense.

In spots like these it is we prize
Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes:
Then, why should I be loth to stir?
I feel this place was made for her;
70 To give new pleasure like the past,
Continued long as life shall last.

Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart,
Sweet Highland Girl! from thee to part;
For I, methinks, till I grow old,
75 As fair before me shall behold,

As I do now, the cabin small,
The lake, the bay, the waterfall;
And thee, the Spirit of them all!

STEPPING WESTWARD
1803
1807

"What, you are stepping westward?”-
"Yea."

'Twould be a wildish destiny,

If we, who thus together roam

In a strange land, and far from home,

5 Were in this place the guests of Chance:
Yet who would stop, or fear to advance,
Though home or shelter he had none,
With such a sky to lead him on?

The dewy ground was dark and cold; 10 Behind, all gloomy to behold;

And stepping westward seemed to be

A kind of heavenly destiny:

I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound Of something without place or bound; 15 And seemed to give me spiritual right To travel through that region bright. The voice was soft, and she who spake Was walking by her native lake: The salutation had to me

20 The very sound of courtesy:

Its power was felt; and while my eye Was fixed upon the glowing sky, The echo of the voice enwrought A human sweetness with the thought 25 Of travelling through the world that lay Before me in my endless way.

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Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!

5 Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chaunt
10 More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt.
Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In springtime from the cuckoo-bird, 15 Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?-
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
20 And battles long ago;

Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of today?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

25 Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;-
I listened, motionless and still;
30 And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

YARROW UNVISITED
1803
1807

From Stirling castle we1 had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;

Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,

1 Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy.

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I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;

5 Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
10 Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance..

The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
15 A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:

I gazed-and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
20 In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET
1804
1807

Where art thou, my beloved son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead?
Oh find me, prosperous or undone!
Or, if the grave be now thy bed,
5 Why am I ignorant of the same
That I may rest; and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?

Seven years, alas! to have received
No tidings of an only child;

10 To have despaired, have hoped, believed,
And been for evermore beguiled;
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!
I catch at them, and then I miss;
Was ever darkness like to this?

15 He was among the prime in worth,
An object beauteous to behold;
Well born, well bred; I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:

20 As hath been said, they were not base;
If things ensued that wanted grace,

And never blush was on my face.

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