Where flower-breathed incense to the skies

Is wafted in mute harmonies;

And ground fresh-cloven by the plough
Is fragrant with a humbler vow;
Where birds and brooks from leafy dells
Chime forth unwearied canticles,
And vapours magnify and spread
The glory of the sun's bright head—
Still constant in her worship, still
Conforming to the eternal Will,
Whether men sow or reap the fields,
Divine monition Nature yields,
That not by bread alone we live,
Or what a hand of flesh can give ;
That every day should leave some part
Free for a sabbath of the heart :
So shall the seventh be truly blest,
From morn to eve, with hallowed rest.

INSCRIPTION FOR A STONE

IN THE GROUNDS OF RYDAL MOUNT.

IN these fair vales hath many a Tree
At Wordsworth's suit been spared;
And from the builder's hand this Stone,
For some rude beauty of its own,

Was rescued by the Bard.
So let it rest; and time will come
When here the tender-hearted
May heave a gentle sigh for him,
As one of the departed.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

PAGE

A barking sound the shepherd hears
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by

A poet! He hath put his heart to school

A point of life between my parents' dust
A simple child

A slumber did my spirit seal

A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain
Adieu, Rydalian laurels ! that have grown
All praise the likeness by thy skill pourtrayed
Amid the smoke of cities did you pass

An age hath been when earth was proud.

An Orpheus! an Orpheus !—yes, faith may grow bold
And is this-Yarrow?-This the stream

Another year!-another deadly blow

Art thou the bird whom man loves best

35

215

226

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears

Before I see another day

Behold her, single in the field

Behold, within the leafy shade

16

51

147

116

Bright flower, whose home is everywhere!

Blest is this isle-our native land

Brook and road

By their floating mill

Calvert! it must not be unheard by them.
Clarkson! it was an obstinate hill to climb
Come ye-who, if (which Heaven avert !) the land
Content with calmer scenes around us spread .

Dear child of nature, let them rail!

Dear to the loves, and to the graces vowed
Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy lord!
Departing summer hath assumed

Earth has not anything to show more fair.

England! the time is come when thou should'st wean
Ethereal minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky

Fair is the swan, whose majesty, prevailing
Fair star of evening, splendour of the west
Farewell, thou little nook of mountain-ground

Five years have past; five summers, with the length
From Stirling Castle we had seen

Go, faithful portrait ! and where long hath knelt

Hast thou then survived

Here pause: the poet claims at least this praise
High in the breathless hall the minstrel sate
High is our calling, friend!-Creative art
Hope rules a land for ever green

I am not one who much or oft delight

I have a boy of five years old

I thought of thee, my partner and my guide
I travelled among unknown men

I've watched you now a full half-hour

I wandered lonely as a cloud

I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged pile !

I watch, and long have watched, with calm regret
If from the public way you turn your steps

If nature, for a favourite child
Inland, within a hollow vale, I stood
In these fair vales hath many a tree.
In the sweet shire of Cardigan
In this still place, remote from men
Is it a reed that's shaken by the wind
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free