by Homer
He might be sent to him. Ten times or more
The letter was read over; Isabel
Went forth to show it to the neighbours round;
Nor was there at that time on English land 315
A prouder heart than Luke’s. When Isabel
Had to her house returned, the old Man said,
‘He shall depart to-morrow.’ To this word
The Housewife answered, talking much of things
Which, if at such short notice he should go, 320
Would surely be forgotten. But at length
She gave consent, and Michael was at ease.
Near the tumultuous brook of Greenhead Ghyll,
In that deep valley, Michael had designed
To build a Sheepfold; and, before he heard 325
The tidings of his melancholy loss,
For this same purpose he had gathered up
A heap of stones, which by the streamlet’s edge
Lay thrown together, ready for the work.
With Luke that evening thitherward he walked; 330
And soon as they had reached the place he stopped.
And thus the old Man spake to him:— ‘My Son,
To-morrow thou wilt leave me: with full heart
I look upon thee, for thou art the same
That wert a promise to me ere thy birth, 335
And all thy life hast been my daily joy.
I will relate to thee some little part
Of our two histories; ‘twill do thee good
When thou art from me, even if I should touch
On things thou canst not know of. — After thou 340
First cam’st into the world — as oft befalls
To new-born infants — thou didst sleep away
Two days, and blessings from thy Father’s tongue
Then fell upon thee. Day by day passed on,
And still I loved thee with increasing love. 345
Never to living ear came sweeter sounds
Than when I heard thee by our own fireside
First uttering, without words, a natural tune:
While thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy
Sing at thy Mother’s breast. Month followed month, 350
And in the open fields my life was passed
And on the mountains; else I think that thou
Hadst been brought up upon thy Father’s knees.
But we were playmates, Luke: among these hills,
As well thou knowest, in us the old and young 355
Have played together, nor with me didst thou
Lack any pleasure which a boy can know.’
Luke had a manly heart; but at these words
He sobbed aloud. The old Man grasped his hand,
And said, ‘Nay, do not take it so — I see 360
That these are things of which I need not speak.
— Even to the utmost I have been to thee
A kind and a good Father: and herein
I but repay a gift which I myself
Received at others’ hand; for, though now old 365
Beyond the common life of man, I still
Remember them who loved me in my youth.
Both of them sleep together; here they lived,
As all their Forefathers had done; and when
At length their time was come, they were not loth 370
To give their bodies to the family mould.
I wished that thou shouldst live the life they lived:
But, ’tis a long time to look back, my Son
And see so little gained from threescore years.
These fields were burthened when they came to me; 375
Till I was forty years of age, not more
Than half of my inheritance was mine.
I toiled and toiled; God blessed me in my work,
And till these three weeks past the land was free.
— It looks as if it never could endure 380
Another Master. Heaven forgive me, Luke,
If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good
That thou shouldst go.’
At this the old Man paused;Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood,
Thus, after a short silence, he resumed:
‘This was a work for us; and now, my Son,
It is a work for me. But, lay one stone —
Here, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands.
Nay, Boy, be of good hope; — we both may live 390
To see a better day. At eighty-four
I still am strong and hale; — do thou thy part;
I will do mine. — I will begin again
With many tasks that were resigned to thee:
Up to the heights, and in among the storms, 395
Will I without thee go again, and do
All works which I was wont to do alone,
Before I knew thy face. — Heaven bless thee, Boy!
Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast
With many hopes; it should be so — yes — yes — 400
I knew that thou couldst never have a wish
To leave me, Luke: thou hast been bound to me
Only by links of love: when thou art gone,
What will be left to us! — But, I forget
My purposes: Lay now the corner-stone, 405
As I requested; and hereafter, Luke,
When thou art gone away, should evil men
Be thy companions, think of me, my Son,
And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts,
And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear 410
And all temptations, Luke, I pray that thou
May’st bear in mind the life thy Fathers lived,
Who, being innocent, did for that cause
Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well —
When thou return’st, thou in this place wilt see 415
A work which is not here: a covenant
‘Twill be between us; but, whatever fate
Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last,
And bear thy memory with me to the grave.’
The Shepherd ended here; and Luke stooped down, 420
And, as his Father had requested, laid
The first stone of the Sheepfold. At the sight
The old Man’s grief broke from him; to his heart
He pressed his Son, he kissed him and wept;
And to the house together they returned. 425
— Hushed was that House in peace, or seeming peace,
Ere the Night fell: — with morrow’s dawn the Boy
Began his journey, and when he had reached
The public way, he put on a bold face;
And all the neighbours, as he passed their doors, 430
Came forth with wishes and with farewell prayers,
That followed him till he was out of sight.
A good report did from their kinsman come,
Of Luke and his well-doing: and the Boy
Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news, 435
Which, as the Housewife phrased it, were throughout
‘The prettiest letters that were ever seen.’
Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts.
So, many months passed on: and once again
The Shepherd went about his daily work 440
With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now
Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour
He to that valley took his way, and there
Wrought at the Sheepfold. Meantime Luke began
To slacken in his duty; and, at length, 445
He in the dissolute city gave himself
To evil courses: ignominy and shame
Fell on him, so that he was driven at last
To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas.
There is a comfort in the strength of love; 450
‘Twill make a thing endurable, which else
Would overset the brain, or break the heart:
/> I have conversed with more than one who well
Remember the old Man, and what he was
Years after he had heard this heavy news. 455
His bodily frame had been from youth to age
Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks
He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud,
And listened to the wind; and, as before,
Performed all kinds of labour for his sheep, 460
And for the land, his small inheritance.
And to that hollow dell from time to time
Did he repair, to build the Fold of which
His flock had need. ’Tis not forgotten yet
The pity which was then in every heart 465
For the old Man — and ’tis believed by all
That many and many a day he thither went,
And never lifted up a single stone.
There, by the Sheepfold, sometimes was he seen
Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog, 470
Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.
The length of full seven years, from time to time,
He at the building of this Sheepfold wrought,
And left the work unfinished when he died.
Three years, or little more, did Isabel 475
Survive her Husband: at her death the estate
Was sold, and went into a stranger’s hand.
The Cottage which was named THE EVENING STAR
Is gone — the ploughshare has been through the ground
On which it stood; great changes have been wrought 480
In all the neighbourhood: — yet the oak is left
That grew beside their door; and the remains
Of the unfinished Sheepfold may be seen
Beside the boisterous brook of Greenhead Ghyll.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Yarrow Unvisited
1803
William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
FROM Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravell’d,
Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travell’d;
And when we came to Clovenford, 5
Then said my ‘winsome Marrow,’
‘Whate’er betide, we’ll turn aside,
And see the Braes of Yarrow.’
‘Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,
Who have been buying, selling, 10
Go back to Yarrow, ’tis their own,
Each maiden to her dwelling!
On Yarrow’s banks let herons feed,
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow;
But we will downward with the Tweed, 15
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.
‘There’s Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
Both lying right before us;
And Dryburgh, where with chiming Tweed
The lintwhites sing in chorus; 20
There’s pleasant Teviotdale, a land
Made blythe with plough and harrow:
Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow?
‘What’s Yarrow but a river bare 25
That glides the dark hills under?
There are a thousand such elsewhere
As worthy of your wonder.’
— Strange words they seem’d of slight and scorn;
My true-love sigh’d for sorrow, 30
And look’d me in the face, to think
I thus could speak of Yarrow!
‘O green,’ said I, ‘are Yarrow’s holms.
And sweet is Yarrow flowing!
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, 35
But we will leave it growing.
O’er hilly path and open strath
We’ll wander Scotland thorough;
But, though so near, we will not turn
Into the dale of Yarrow. 40
‘Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;
The swan on still Saint Mary’s Lake
Float double, swan and shadow!
We will not see them; will not go 45
To-day, nor yet to-morrow;
Enough if in our hearts we know
There’s such a place as Yarrow.
‘Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown;
It must, or we shall rue it: 50
We have a vision of our own,
Ah! why should we undo it?
The treasured dreams of times long past,
We’ll keep them, winsome Marrow!
For when we’re there, although ’tis fair, 55
‘Twill be another Yarrow!
‘If care with freezing years should come
And wandering seem but folly, —
Should we be loth to stir from home,
And yet be melancholy; 60
Should life be dull, and spirits low,
‘Twill soothe us in our sorrow
That earth has something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow!’
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Yarrow Visited
[September, 1814]
William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
AND is this — Yarrow? — This the stream
Of which my fancy cherish’d
So faithfully, a waking dream,
An image that hath perish’d?
O that some minstrel’s harp were near 5
To utter notes of gladness
And chase this silence from the air,
That fills my heart with sadness.
Yet why? — a silvery current flows
With uncontroll’d meanderings; 10
Nor have these eyes by greener hills
Been soothed, in all my wanderings.
And, through her depths, Saint Mary’s Lake
Is visibly delighted;
For not a feature of those hills 15
Is in the mirror slighted.
A blue sky bends o’er Yarrow Vale,
Save where that pearly whiteness
Is round the rising sun diffused,
A tender hazy brightness; 20
Mild dawn of promise! that excludes
All profitless dejection;
Though not unwilling here to admit
A pensive recollection.
Where was it that the famous Flower 25
Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding?
His bed perchance was yon smooth mound
On which the herd is feeding:
And haply from this crystal pool
Now peaceful as the morning, 30
The water-Wraith ascended thrice,
And gave his doleful warning.
Delicious is the Lay that sings
The haunts of happy lovers,
The path that leads them to the grove, 35
The leafy grove that covers:
And pity sanctifies the verse
That paints, by strength of sorrow,
The unconquerable strength of love;
Bear witness, rueful Yarrow! 40
But thou that didst appear so fair
To fond imagination
Dost rival in the light of day
Her delicate creation:
Meek loveliness is round thee spread, 45
A softness still and holy:
The grace of forest charms decay’d,
And pastoral melancholy.
That region left, the vale unfolds
Rich groves of lofty stature, 50
With Yarrow winding through the pomp
Of cultivated Nature;
And rising from those lofty groves
Behold a ruin hoary,
The shatter’d front of Newark’s Towers, 55
Renown’d in Border story.
Fair scenes for childhood’s opening bloom,
For sportive youth to stray in,
For manhood to enjoy his strengt
h,
And age to wear away in! 60
Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss,
A covert for protection
Of studious ease and generous cares
And every chaste affection!
How sweet on this autumnal day 65
The wild-wood fruits to gather,
And on my true-love’s forehead plant
A crest of blooming heather!
And what if I enwreathed my own?
‘Twere no offence to reason; 70
The sober hills thus deck their brows
To meet the wintry season.
I see — but not by sight alone,
Loved Yarrow, have I won thee;
A ray of Fancy still survives — 75
Her sunshine plays upon thee!
Thy ever-youthful waters keep
A course of lively pleasure;
And gladsome notes my lips can breathe
Accordant to the measure. 80
The vapours linger round the heights,
They melt, and soon must vanish;
One hour is theirs, nor more is mine —
Sad thought! which I would banish,
But that I know, where’er I go, 85
Thy genuine image, Yarrow!
Will dwell with me, to heighten joy
And cheer my mind in sorrow.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Yarrow Revisited
William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
THE GALLANT Youth, who may have gained,
Or seeks, a ‘winsome Marrow,’
Was but an Infant in the lap
When first I looked on Yarrow;
Once more, by Newark’s Castle-gate 5
Long left without a warder,
I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee,
Great Minstrel of the Border!
Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day,
Their dignity installing 10
In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves
Were on the bough, or falling;
But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed —
The forest to embolden;
Reddened the fiery hues, and shot 15
Transparence through the golden.
For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on
In foamy agitation;
And slept in many a crystal pool
For quiet contemplation: 20
No public and no private care
