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I have walk'd through wildernesses dreary,
And to-day my heart is weary;
Had I now the wings of a fairy,
Up to thee would I fly.

There is madness about thee and joy divine
In that song of thine;

Up with me, up with me, high and high,
To thy banqueting-place in the sky!
Joyous as morning,

Thou art laughing and scorning ;
Thou hast a nest, for thy love and thy rest :
And, though little troubled with sloth,
Drunken Lark? thou wouldst be loth

To be such a traveller as I.
Happy, happy liver!

With a soul as strong as a mountain river,
Pouring out praise to th' Almighty Giver,
Joy and jollity be with us both!

Hearing thee, or else some other,
As merry as a brother,

I on the earth will go plodding on
By myself, cheerfully, till the day is done.

TO THE DAISY.

SWEET flower! belike, one day, to have
A place upon thy Poet's grave,
I welcome thee once more :
But he, who was on land, at sea,
My brother, too, in loving thee,
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.

Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that ship he bent his way,
To govern and to guide :

And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In Nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

Nor perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay;

For thou art with me, here, upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou, my dearest friend,
My dear, dear friend, and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear sister! And this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her: 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;

And let the misty mountain winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place

For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,

Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,

Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trail'd its wreaths ;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopp'd and play'd;
Their thoughts I cannot measure : —
But the least motion which they made,
It seem'd a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If I these thoughts may not prevent,
If such be of my creed the plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

ODE.

Intimations of Immortality from recollections of early Childhood.

"The child is father of the man ;

And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.'

I.

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparell'd in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it has been of yore ;-

Turn wheresoe'er I may,

By night or day,

The things which I have seen I now can see no more!

II.

The rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is the rose,

The moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where'er I go,

That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.

III.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,

To me alone there came a thought of grief;
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong.

The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,-
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong :
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;

Land and sea

Give themselves up to jollity,

And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;
Thou child of joy,

Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd boy!

IV.

Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call

Ye to each other make; I see

II.

To Joanna.

AMID the smoke of cities did you pass
Your time of early youth; and there you learn'd,
From years of quiet industry, to love
The living beings by your own fireside
With such a strong devotion, that your heart
Is slow towards the sympathies of them

Who look upon the hills with tenderness,

And make dear friendships with the streams and groves. Yet we, who are transgressors in this kind,

Dwelling, retired in our simplicity,

Among the woods and fields, we love you well
Joanna and I guess, since you have been
So distant from us now for two long years,
That you will gladly listen to discourse
However trivial, if you thence are taught
That they, with whom you once were happy, talk
Familiarly of you and of old times.

While I was seated, now some ten days past,
Beneath those lofty firs, that overtop
Their ancient neighbour the old steeple tower,
The vicar from his gloomy house hard by
Came forth to greet me; and when he had ask'd,
'How fares Joanna, that wild-hearted maid!
And when will she return to us?' he paused;
And, after short exchange of village news,
He with grave looks demanded, for what cause,
Reviving obsolete idolatry,

I like a Runic priest, in characters

Of formidable size, had chisell❜d out
Some uncouth name upon the native rock,
Above the Rotha, by the forest side.

Now, by those dear immunities of heart
Engender'd betwixt malice and true love,
I was not loth to be so catechised,

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