Chapter 2

The cook is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! 10 Like an army defeated The Snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The Plough-boy is whooping--anon--anon: There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone! 20

6. _THE SMALL CELANDINE_. Common Pilewort.

There is a Flower, the Lesser Celandine, That shrinks, like many more, from cold and rain; And, the first moment that the sun may shine, Bright as the sun itself, 'tis out again!

When hailstones have been falling swarm on swarm, Or blasts the green field and the trees distress'd, Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm, In close self-shelter, like a Thing at rest.

But lately, one rough day, this Flower I pass'd, And recognized it, though an alter'd Form, 10 Now standing forth an offering to the Blast, And buffetted at will by Rain and Storm,

I stopp'd, and said with inly muttered voice, "It doth not love the shower, nor seek the cold: This neither is its courage nor its choice, But its necessity in being old."

The sunshine may not bless it, nor the dew; It cannot help itself in its decay; Stiff in its members, wither'd, changed of hue. And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was grey. 20

To be a Prodigal's Favorite--then, worse truth, A Miser's Pensioner--behold our lot! O Man! that from thy fair and shining youth Age might but take the things Youth needed not!

7.

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 dancing Daffodills; Along the Lake, beneath the trees, Ten thousand dancing in the breeze.

The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:-- A Poet could not but be gay In such a laughing company: 10 I gaz'd--and gaz'd--but little thought What wealth the shew to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie 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.

8.

Who fancied what a pretty sight This Rock would be if edged around With living Snowdrops? circlet bright! How glorious to this Orchard ground! Who loved the little Rock, and set Upon its Head this Coronet?

Was it the humour of a Child? Or rather of some love-sick Maid, Whose brows, the day that she was styled The Shepherd Queen, were thus arrayed? Of Man mature, or Matron sage? Or old Man toying with his age?

I ask'd--'twas whisper'd, The device To each or all might well belong. It is the Spirit of Paradise That prompts such work, a Spirit strong, That gives to all the self-same bent Where life is wise and innocent.

9. _THE SPARROW'S NEST_.

Look, five blue eggs are gleaming there! Few visions have I seen more fair, Nor many prospects of delight More pleasing than that simple sight! I started seeming to espy The home and shelter'd bed, The Sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by My Father's House, in wet or dry, My Sister Emmeline and I Together visited. 10

She look'd at it as if she fear'd it; Still wishing, dreading to be near it: Such heart was in her, being then A little Prattler among men. The Blessing of my later years Was with me when a Boy; She gave me eyes, she gave me ears; And humble cares, and delicate fears; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears; And love, and thought, and joy. 20

10. _GIPSIES_.

Yet are they here?--the same unbroken knot Of human Beings, in the self-same spot! Men, Women, Children, yea the frame Of the whole Spectacle the same! Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light: Now deep and red, the colouring of night; That on their Gipsy-faces falls, Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. --Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours, are gone while I Have been a Traveller under open sky, 10 Much witnessing of change and chear, Yet as I left I find them here!

The weary Sun betook himself to rest. --Then issued Vesper from the fulgent West, Outshining like a visible God The glorious path in which he trod. And now, ascending, after one dark hour, And one night's diminution of her power, Behold the mighty Moon! this way She looks as if at them--but they 20 Regard not her:--oh better wrong and strife, Better vain deeds or evil than such life! The silent Heavens have goings on; The stars have tasks--but these have none.

11. _TO THE CUCKOO_.

O blithe New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice: O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass, I hear thy restless shout: From hill to hill it seems to pass, About, and all about!

To me, no Babbler with a tale Of sunshine and of flowers, 10 Thou tellest, Cuckoo! in the vale Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, Darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No Bird; but an invisible Thing, A voice, a mystery.

The same whom in my School-boy days I listen'd to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways; In bush, and tree, and sky. 20

To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still long'd for, never seen!

And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain. And listen, till I do beget That golden time again.

O blessed Bird! the earth we pace Again appears to be 30 An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for Thee!

12. _TO A BUTTERFLY_.

I've watch'd you now a full half hour, Self-pois'd upon that yellow flower; And, little Butterfly! indeed I know not if you sleep, or feed. How motionless! not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!

This plot of Orchard-ground is ours; 10 My trees they are, my Sister's flowers; Stop here whenever you are weary, And rest as in a sanctuary! Come often to us, fear no wrong; Sit near us on the bough! We'll talk of sunshine and of song; And summer days, when we were young, Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now!

13.

It is no Spirit who from Heaven hath flown, And is descending on his embassy; Nor Traveller gone from Earth the Heavens to espy! 'Tis Hesperus--there he stands with glittering crown, First admonition that the sun is down! For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by; A few are near him still--and now the sky, He hath it to himself--'tis all his own. O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought Within me when I recognised thy light; A moment I was startled at the sight: And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought That I might step beyond my natural race As thou seem'st now to do; might one day trace Some ground not mine; and, strong her strength above, My Soul, an Apparition in the place, Tread there, with steps that no one shall reprove!

THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY; WITH _OTHER POEMS_.

_THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY_. (A Tale told by the Fire-side.)

Now we are tired of boisterous joy, We've romp'd enough, my little Boy! Jane hangs her head upon my breast, And you shall bring your Stool and rest, This corner is your own.

There! take your seat, and let me see That you can listen quietly; And as I promised I will tell That strange adventure which befel A poor blind Highland Boy. 10

A _Highland_ Boy!--why call him so? Because, my Darlings, ye must know, In land where many a mountain towers, Far higher hills than these of ours! He from his birth had liv'd.

He ne'er had seen one earthly sight; The sun, the day; the stars, the night; Or tree, or butterfly, or flower, Or fish in stream, or bird in bower, Or woman, man, or child. 20

And yet he neither drooped nor pined, Nor had a melancholy mind; For God took pity on the Boy, And was his friend; and gave him joy Of which we nothing know.

His Mother, too, no doubt, above Her other Children him did love: For, was she here, or was she there, She thought of him with constant care, And more than Mother's love. 30

And proud she was of heart, when clad In crimson stockings, tartan plaid, And bonnet with a feather gay, To Kirk he on the sabbath day Went hand in hand with her.

A Dog, too, had he; not for need, But one to play with and to feed; Which would have led him, if bereft Of company or friends, and left Without a better guide. 40

And then the bagpipes he could blow; And thus from house to house would go, And all were pleas'd to hear and see; For none made sweeter melody Than did the poor blind Boy.

Yet he had many a restless dream; Both when he heard the Eagles scream, And when he heard the torrents roar, And heard the water beat the shore Near which their Cottage stood. 50

Beside a lake their Cottage stood, Not small like ours, a peaceful flood; But one of mighty size, and strange; That, rough or smooth, is full of change, And stirring in its bed.

For to this Lake, by night and day, The great Sea-water finds its way Through long, long windings of the hills; And drinks up all the pretty rills And rivers large and strong: 60

Then hurries back the road it came-- Returns, on errand still the same; This did it when the earth was new; And this for evermore will do, As long as earth shall last.

And, with the coming of the Tide, Come Boats and Ships, that sweetly ride, Between the woods and lofty rocks; And to the Shepherds with their Flocks Bring tales of distant Lands. 70

And of those tales, whate'er they were, The blind Boy always had his share; Whether of mighty Towns, or Vales With warmer suns and softer gales, Or wonders of the Deep.

Yet more it pleased him, more it stirr'd, When from the water-side he heard The shouting, and the jolly cheers, The bustle of the mariners In stillness or in storm. 80

But what do his desires avail? For He must never handle sail; Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float In Sailor's ship or Fisher's boat Upon the rocking waves.

His Mother often thought, and said, What sin would be upon her head If she should suffer this: "My Son, Whate'er you do, leave this undone; The danger is so great." 90

Thus lived he by Loch Levin's side Still sounding with the sounding tide, And heard the billows leap and dance, Without a shadow of mischance, Till he was ten years old.

When one day (and now mark me well, You soon shall know how this befel) He's in a vessel of his own, On the swift water hurrying down Towards the mighty Sea. 100

In such a vessel ne'er before Did human Creature leave the shore: If this or that way he should stir, Woe to the poor blind Mariner! For death will be his doom.

Strong is the current; but be mild, Ye waves, and spare the helpless Child! If ye in anger fret or chafe, A Bee-hive would be ship as safe As that in which he sails. 110

But say, what was it? Thought of fear! Well may ye tremble when ye hear! --A Household Tub, like one of those Which women use to wash their clothes, This carried the blind Boy.

Close to the water he had found This Vessel, push'd it from dry ground, Went into it; and, without dread, Following the fancies in his head, He paddled up and down. 120

A while he stood upon his feet; He felt the motion--took his seat; And dallied thus, till from the shore The tide retreating more and more Had suck'd, and suck'd him in.

And there he is in face of Heaven! How rapidly the Child is driven! The fourth part of a mile I ween He thus had gone, ere he was seen By any human eye. 130

But when he was first seen, oh me! What shrieking and what misery! For many saw; among the rest His Mother, she who loved him best, She saw her poor blind Boy.

But for the Child, the sightless Boy, It is the triumph of his joy! The bravest Traveller in balloon, Mounting as if to reach the moon, Was never half so bless'd. 140

And let him, let him go his way, Alone, and innocent, and gay! For, if good Angels love to wait On the forlorn unfortunate, This Child will take no harm.

But now the passionate lament, Which from the crowd on shore was sent, The cries which broke from old and young In Gaelic, or the English tongue, Are stifled--all is still. 150

And quickly with a silent crew A Boat is ready to pursue; And from the shore their course they take, And swiftly down the running Lake They follow the blind Boy.

With sound the least that can be made They follow, more and more afraid, More cautious as they draw more near; But in his darkness he can hear, And guesses their intent. 160

"_Lei-gha--Lei-gha_"--then did he cry "_Lei-gha--Lei-gha_"--most eagerly; Thus did he cry, and thus did pray, And what he meant was, "Keep away, And leave me to myself!"

Alas! and when he felt their hands-- You've often heard of magic Wands, That with a motion overthrow A palace of the proudest shew, Or melt it into air. 170

So all his dreams, that inward light With which his soul had shone so bright, All vanish'd;--'twas a heartfelt cross To him, a heavy, bitter loss, As he had ever known.

But hark! a gratulating voice With which the very hills rejoice: 'Tis from the crowd, who tremblingly Had watch'd the event, and now can see That he is safe at last. 180

And then, when he was brought to land, Full sure they were a happy band, Which gathering round did on the banks Of that great Water give God thanks, And welcom'd the poor Child.

And in the general joy of heart The blind Boy's little Dog took part; He leapt about, and oft did kiss His master's hands in sign of bliss, With sound like lamentation. 190

But most of all, his Mother dear, She who had fainted with her fear, Rejoiced when waking she espies The Child; when she can trust her eyes, And touches the blind Boy.

She led him home, and wept amain, When he was in the house again: Tears flow'd in torrents from her eyes, She could not blame him, or chastise: She was too happy far. 200

Thus, after he had fondly braved The perilous Deep, the Boy was saved; And, though his fancies had been wild, Yet he was pleased, and reconciled To live in peace on shore.

_THE GREEN LINNET_.

The May is come again:--how sweet To sit upon my Orchard-seat! And Birds and Flowers once more to greet, My last year's Friends together: My thoughts they all by turns employ; A whispering Leaf is now my joy, And then a Bird will be the toy That doth my fancy tether.

One have I mark'd, the happiest Guest In all this covert of the blest: 10 Hail to Thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion, Thou, Linnet! in thy green array, Presiding Spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May, And this is thy dominion.

While Birds, and Butterflies, and Flowers Make all one Band of Paramours, Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, Art sole in thy employment; 20 A Life, a Presence like the Air, Scattering thy gladness without care, Too bless'd with any one to pair, Thyself thy own enjoyment.

Upon yon tuft of hazel trees, That twinkle to the gusty breeze, Behold him perch'd in ecstasies, Yet seeming still to hover; There! where the flutter of his wings Upon his back and body flings 30 Shadows and sunny glimmerings, That cover him all over.

While thus before my eyes he gleams, A Brother of the Leaves he seems; When in a moment forth he teems His little song in gushes: As if it pleas'd him to disdain And mock the Form which he did feign, While he was dancing with the train Of Leaves among the bushes. 40

_TO A YOUNG LADY_, Who had been reproached for taking long Walks in the Country.

Dear Child of Nature, let them rail! --There is a nest in a green dale, A harbour and a hold, Where thou a Wife and Friend, shalt see Thy own delightful days, and be A light to young and old.

There, healthy as a Shepherd-boy, As if thy heritage were joy, And pleasure were thy trade, Thou, while thy Babes around thee cling, Shalt shew us how divine a thing A Woman may be made.

Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die, Nor leave thee, when grey hairs are nigh, A melancholy slave But an old age, alive and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave. "--_Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claim'd by whoever shall find_."

* * * * *

By their floating Mill, Which lies dead and still, Behold yon Prisoners three! The Miller with two Dames, on the breast of the Thames; The Platform is small, but there's room for them all; And they're dancing merrily.

From the shore come the notes To their Mill where it floats, To their House and their Mill tether'd fast; To the small wooden isle where their work to beguile 10 They from morning to even take whatever is given;-- And many a blithe day they have past.

In sight of the Spires All alive with the fires Of the Sun going down to his rest, In the broad open eye of the solitary sky, They dance,--there are three, as jocund as free, While they dance on the calm river's breast.

Man and Maidens wheel, They themselves make the Reel, 20 And their Music's a prey which they seize; It plays not for them,--what matter! 'tis their's; And if they had care it has scattered their cares, While they dance, crying, "Long as ye please!"

They dance not for me, Yet mine is their glee! Thus pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claim'd by whoever shall find; Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind, Moves all nature to gladness and mirth. 30

The Showers of the Spring Rouze the Birds and they sing; If the Wind do but stir for his proper delight, Each Leaf, that and this, his neighbour will kiss, Each Wave, one and t'other, speeds after his Brother; They are happy, for that is their right!

_STAR GAZERS_.

What crowd is this? what have we here! we must not pass it by; A Telescope upon its frame, and pointed to the sky: Long is it as a Barber's Poll, or Mast of little Boat, Some little Pleasure-Skiff, that doth on Thames's waters float.

The Show-man chuses well his place, 'tis Leicester's busy Square; And he's as happy in his night, for the heavens are blue and fair; Calm, though impatient is the Crowd; Each is ready with the fee, And envies him that's looking--what an insight must it be!

Yet, Show-man, where can lie the cause? Shall thy Implement have blame, A Boaster, that when he is tried, fails, and is put to shame? 10 Or is it good as others are, and be their eyes in fault? Their eyes, or minds? or, finally, is this resplendent Vault?

Is nothing of that radiant pomp so good as we have here? Or gives a thing but small delight that never can be dear? The silver Moon with all her Vales, and Hills of mightiest fame, Do they betray us when they're seen? and are they but a name?

Or is it rather that Conceit rapacious is and strong, And bounty never yields so much but it seems to do her wrong? Or is it, that when human Souls a journey long have had, And are returned into themselves, they cannot but be sad? 20

Or must we be constrain'd to think that these Spectators rude, Poor in estate, of manners base, men of the multitude, Have souls which never yet have ris'n, and therefore prostrate lie? No, no, this cannot be--Men thirst for power and majesty!

Does, then, a deep and earnest thought the blissful mind employ Of him who gazes, or has gazed? a grave and steady joy, That doth reject all shew of pride, admits no outward sign, Because not of this noisy world, but silent and divine!

Whatever be the cause, 'tis sure that they who pry & pore Seem to meet with little gain, seem less happy than before: 30 One after One they take their turns, nor have I one espied That doth not slackly go away, as if dissatisfied.

_POWER OF MUSIC_.

An Orpheus! An Orpheus!--yes, Faith may grow bold, And take to herself all the wonders of old;-- Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the same, In the street that from Oxford hath borrowed its name.

His station is there;--and he works on the crowd, He sways them with harmony merry and loud; He fills with his power all their hearts to the brim-- Was aught ever heard like his fiddle and him!

What an eager assembly! what an empire is this! The weary have life and the hungry have bliss; 10 The mourner is cheared, and the anxious have rest; And the guilt-burthened Soul is no longer opprest.

As the Moon brightens round her the clouds of the night, So he where he stands is a center of light; It gleams on the face, there, of dusky-faced Jack, And the pale-visaged Baker's, with basket on back.

That errand-bound 'Prentice was passing in haste-- What matter! he's caught--and his time runs to waste-- The News-man is stopped, though he stops on the fret, And the half-breathless Lamp-lighter he's in the net! 20

The Porter sits down on the weight which he bore; The Lass with her barrow wheels hither her store;-- If a Thief could be here he might pilfer at ease; She sees the Musician, 'tis all that she sees!

He stands, back'd by the Wall;--he abates not his din; His hat gives him vigour, with boons dropping in, From the Old and the Young, from the Poorest; and there! The one-pennied Boy has his penny to spare.

O blest are the Hearers and proud be the Hand Of the pleasure it spreads through so thankful a Band; 30 I am glad for him, blind as he is!--all the while If they speak 'tis to praise, and they praise with a smile.

That tall Man, a Giant in bulk and in height, Not an inch of his body is free from delight; Can he keep himself still, if he would? oh, not he! The music stirs in him like wind through a tree.