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Now Harry he had long suspected
This trespass of old Goody Blake;
And vowed that she should be detected,
And he on her would vengeance take.
And oft from his warm fire he'd go,
And to the fields his road would take;
And there, at night, in frost and snow,
He watched to seize old Goody Blake.

And once, behind a rick of barley,
Thus looking out did Harry stand:
The moon was full and shining clearly,
And crisp with frost the stubble land.
-He hears a noise-he's all awake-
Again?-on tip-toe down the hill
He softly creeps-Tis Goody Blake,
She's at the hedge of Harry Gill.

Right glad was he when he beheld her: Stick after stick did Goody pull:

He stood behind a bush of elder,

Till she had filled her apron full.
When with her load she turned about,

The by-road back again to take,
He started forward with a shout,
And sprang upon poor Goody Blake.

And fiercely by the arm he took her,
And by the arm he held her fast,

And fiercely by the arm he shook her,
And cried, "I've caught you then at last!"

Then Goody, who had nothing said,

Her bundle from her lap let fall;

And, kneeling on the sticks, she prayed

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To God that is the judge of all.

She prayed, her withered hand uprearing, While Harry held her by the arm— "God! who art never out of hearing,

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may he never more be warm!"

The cold, cold moon above her head,
Thus on her knees did Goody pray,
Young Harry heard what she had said:

And icy cold he turned away.

He went complaining all the morrow

That he was cold and

very

chill:

His face was gloom, his heart was sorrow,

Alas! that day for Harry Gill!

That day he wore a riding-coat,
But not a whit the warmer he:
Another was on Thursday brought,
And ere the Sabbath he had three.

"Twas all in vain, a useless matter,—
And blankets were about him pinn'd;
Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter,
Like a loose casement in the wind.
And Harry's flesh it fell away;

And all who see him say, 'tis plain,
That, live as long as live he may,
He never will be warm again.

No word to any man he utters,
A-bed or up, to young or old;
But ever to himself he mutters,
"Poor Harry Gill is very cold."
A-bed or up, by night or day;
His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
Now think, ye farmers all, I pray,
Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill.

XIII.

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 golden Daffodils;

Beside the Lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee :-
A Poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company :

I gazed and gazed-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.

*The subject of these Stanzas is rather an elementary feeling and simple impression (approaching to the nature of an ocular spectrum) upon the imaginative faculty, than an exertion of it. The one which follows is strictly a Reverie; and neither that, nor the next after it in succession, "The Power of Music," would have been placed here except for the reason given in the foregoing note.

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