And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend,

And a new face at the door, my friend, A new face at the door.

TO J. S.

First printed in 1833, and slightly altered in 1842.

THE wind that beats the mountain blows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.

And me this knowledge bolder made,
Or else I had not dared to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe.

'Tis strange that those we lean on most, Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed,

Fall into shadow, soonest lost;

Those we love first are taken first.

This and the two following poems, written in 1833, were first printed in 1842, and have been altered but slightly. See Notes.

You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease,
Within this region I subsist,
Whose spirits falter in the mist,
And languish for the purple seas.

It is the land that freemen till,

That sober-suited Freedom chose, The land, where girt with friends or foes A man may speak the thing he will;

A land of settled government,

A land of just and old renown, Where Freedom slowly broadens down From precedent to precedent;

Where faction seldom gathers head,

But, by degrees to fullness wrought,
The strength of some diffusive thought
Hath time and space to work and spread.

Should banded unions persecute
Opinion, and induce a time

When single thought is civil crime,
And individual freedom mute,

Tho' power should make from land n land

The name of Britain trebly great

Tho' every channel of the State Should fill and choke with golden sand

Not swift nor slow to change, but firm; And in its season bring the law,

That from Discussion's lip may fall
With Life that, working strongly, binds -
Set in all lights by many minds,
To close the interests of all.

For Nature also, cold and warm,
And moist and dry, devising long,
Thro' many agents making strong,
Matures the individual form.

Meet is it changes should control

Our being, lest we rust in ease. We all are changed by still degrees, All but the basis of the soul.

So let the change which comes be free
To ingroove itself with that which flies,
And work, a joint of state, that plies
Its office, moved with sympathy.

A saying hard to shape in act;

For all the past of Time reveals
A bridal dawn of thunder-peals,
Wherever Thought hath wedded Fact.

Even now we hear with inward strife
A motion toiling in the gloom
The Spirit of the years to come
Yearning to mix himself with Life.

A slow-develop'd strength awaits
Completion in a painful school;
Phantoms of other forms of rule.
New Majesties of mighty States -

The warders of the growing hour,

But vague in vapor, hard to mark;

And round them sea and air are dark With great contrivances of Power.

Of many changes, aptly join'd,

Is bodied forth the second whole. Regard gradation, lest the soul Of Discord race the rising wind;

A wind to puff your idol-fires,

And heap their ashes on the head; To shame the boast so often made, That we are wiser than our sires.

O, yet, if Nature's evil star

Drive men in manhood, as in youth,

of

50

50

7C

First published in the 1874 edition of the 'Poems. See Notes.

O THOU that sendest out the man
To rule by land and sea,

Strong mother of a Lion-line,
Be proud of those strong sons of thine
Who wrench'd their rights from thee!

What wonder if in noble heat

Those men thine arms withstood, Retaught the lesson thou hadst taught, And in thy spirit with thee fought

Who sprang from English blood!

But thou rejoice with liberal joy,
Lift up thy rocky face,

And shatter, when the storms are black,
In many a streaming torrent back,

The seas that shock thy base!

Whatever harmonies of law
The growing world assume,

Thy work is thine the single note

From that deep chord which Hampder

smote

Will vibrate to the doom.

THE GOOSE

First printed in 1842, and unchanged.

I KNEW an old wife lean and poor,
Her rags scarce held together;
There strode a stranger to the door,
And it was windy weather.

He held a goose upon his arm,

He utter'd rhyme and reason:

'Here, take the goose, and keep you warm It is a stormy season.'

She caught the white goose by the leg,
A goose -'t was no great matter.
The goose let fall a golden egg

With cackle and with clatter.

She dropt the goose, and caught the pelf,
And ran to tell her neighbors,
And bless'd herself, and cursed herself,
And rested from her labors;

And feeding high, and living soft,
Grew plump and able-bodied,
Until the grave churchwarden doff'd,
The parson smirk'd and nodded.

So sitting, served by man and maid,
She felt her heart grow prouder;
But ah! the more the white goose laid
It clack'd and cackled louder.

It clutter'd here, it chuckled there,
It stirr'd the old wife's mettle;
She shifted in her elbow-chair,
And hurl'd the pan and kettle.

A quinsy choke thy cursed note!'
Then wax'd her anger stronger.

'Go, take the goose, and wring her throat, I will not bear it longer.'

Then yelp'd the cur, and yawl'd the cat,
Ran Gaffer, stumbled Gaminer.
The goose flew this way and flew that,
And fill'd the house with clamor.