Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

  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.

  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

  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.

  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!

  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!

  IT IS NO SPIRIT WHO FROM HEAVEN HATH FLOWN

  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 t
he 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.