"And when the ground was white with snow, "How many are you, then," said I, "O master! we are seven." "But they are dead; those two are dead! LOUISA. I met Louisa in the shade; That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong; And she hath smiles to earth unknown; She loves her fire, her cottage-home; And, when against the wind she strains, That sparkle on her cheek! Take all that's mine "beneath the moon," If I with her but half a noon May sit beneath the walls Of some old cave, or mossy nook, When up she winds along the brook To hunt the waterfalls. THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE STOCK-DOVE. O nightingale! thou surely art A creature of a fiery heart: These notes of thine-they pierce and pierce! I heard a stock-dove sing or say He did not cease; but coo'd-and coo'd; TO THE CUCKOO. O blithe new-comer! I have heard, O cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, That seems to fill the whole air's space. As loud far off as near. Though babbling only, to the vale, Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Thrice welcome, darling of the sprir! Even yet thou art to me No bird: but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery. The same whom in my schoolboy days Which made me look a thousand ways To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And I can listen to thee yet; O blessed bird! the earth we pace An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for thee! ODE. INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD. There was a time, when meadow, grove, and stream, To me did seem The glory and the freshness of a dream. By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more. The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose, The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth. Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep, Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity, Doth every beast keep holiday; Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd boy! Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all. This sweet May morning, And the children are pulling, On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm :- But there's a tree, of many one, Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream? Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: Not in entire forgetfulness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come Heaven lies about us in our infancy! But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, The youth, who daily farther from the east Is on his way attended; At length the man perceives it die away, Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; The homely nurse doth all she can Behold the child among his new-born blisses, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage" Were endless imitation. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie |