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Happy the feeling from the bosom thrown
Of the sea-beach, when, polished with nice care,
To thy regard, with thoughts so fortunate,
1827. (?) PAET I.
1. Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room; And hermits are contented with their cells; And students with their pensive citadels; Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom, Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom, 5 High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells, Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells: In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me, In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound 10 Withiu the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground; Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs
must be) Who have felt the weight of too much liberty, Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
Intended more particularly for the perusal of those who may have happened to he enamoured of some lieautiful place or Ketreat, in the Country of the Lakes.
Well may'st thou halt—and gaze with bright-
The very flowers are sacred to the Poor,
"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con Those many records of my childish years,
Remembrance of myself and of my peers
tears; Deep thought, or dread remembrance, had I
none. By doubts and thousand petty fancies crost I stood, of simple shame the blushing Thrall; 10 So narrow seemed the brooks, the fields so
small! A Juggler's balls old Time about him tossed; I looked, I stared, I smiled, I laughed; and all The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
AT APPLETHWAITE, NEAR KESWICK.
Beaumont! it was thy wish that I should rear
A seemly Cottage in this sunny Dell,
On favoured ground, thy gift, where I might
dwell In neighbourhood with One to me most dear, That undivided we from year to year 5
Might work in our high Calling—a bright hope