'Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!
It must, or we shall rue it :
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 't is fair,
'T will be another Yarrow !
'If care with freezing years should come
And wandering seem but folly,
Should we be loath to stir from home
And yet be melancholy,
Should life be dull and spirits low,
"T will soothe us in our sorrow
That earth has something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow!'
'SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT.'
SHE was a phantom of delight.
When first she gleamed upon my sight,
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament:
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair,
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn-
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel light.
'I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD.'
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
Outdid 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 show 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 AFFLICTION OF MARGARET.
WHERE art thou, my beloved son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead?
O, find me, prosperous or undone!
Or, if the grave be now thy bed,
Why am I ignorant of the same,
That I may rest, and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?
Seven years, alas! to have received
No tidings of an only child ;
To have despaired, and have believed,
And be forevermore beguiled,
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!
I catch at them, and then I miss ;
Was ever darkness like to this?
He was among the prime in worth,
An object beauteous to behold;
Well born, well bred, I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:
If things ensued that wanted grace,
As hath been said, they were not base,
And never blush was on my face.
Ah! little doth the young one dream,
When full of play and childish cares,
What power is in his wildest scream,
Heard by his mother unawares !
He knows it not, he cannot guess:
Years to a mother bring distress,
But do not make her love the less.
Neglect me! no, I suffered long
From that ill thought, and, being blind,
Said, 'Pride shall help me in my wrong:
Kind mother have I been, as kind
As ever breathed.' And that is true;
I've wet my path with tears like dew,
Weeping for him when no one knew.
My son, if thou be humbled, poor,
Hopeless of honour and of gain,
O, do not dread thy mother's door,
Think not of me with grief and pain!
I now can see with better eyes;
And worldly grandeur I despise,
And Fortune with her gifts and lies.
Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings,
And blasts of heaven will aid their flight; They mount-how short a voyage brings
The wanderers back to their delight!
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