PREFACE The following collection has been entitled SIBYLLINE LEAVES; in allusion to the fragmentary and widely scattered state in which they have been long suffered to remain. It contains the whole of the author's poetical compositions, from 1793 to the present date, with the exception of a few works not yet finished, and those published in the first edition of his juvenile poems, over which he has no controul. They may be divided into three classes: First, A selection from the Poems added to the second and third editions, together with those originally published in the LYRICAL BALLADS, which after having remained many years out of print, have been omitted by Mr. Wordsworth in the recent collection of all his minor poems, and of course revert to the author. Second, Poems published at very different periods, in various obscure or perishable journals, &c. some with, some without the writer's consent; many imperfect, all incorrect. The third and last class is formed of Poems which have hitherto remained in manuscript. The whole is now presented to the reader collectively, with considerable additions and alterations, and as perfect as the author's judgment and powers could render them. In my Literary Life, it has been mentioned that, with the exception of this preface, the SIBYLLINE LEAVES have been printed almost two years; and the necessity of troubling the reader with the list of errata, which follows this preface, alone induces me to refer again to the circumstance, at the risk of ungenial feelings, from the recollection of its worthless causes. A few corrections of later date have been added.-Henceforward the author must be occupied by studies of a very different kind. Ite hinc, CAMŒNÆ! Vos quoque ite, suaves, Revisitote: sed pudenter et raro! VIRGIL. Catalect. vii. At the request of the friends of my youth, who still remain my friends, and who were pleased with the wildness of the compositions, I have added two school-boy poems-with a song modernized with some additions from one of our elder poets. Surely, malice itself will scarcely attribute their insertion to any other motive, than the wish to keep alive the recollections from early life.-I scarcely knew what title I should prefix to the first. By imaginary Time, I meant the state of a school boy's mind when on his return to school he projects his being in his day dreams, and lives in his next holidays, six months hence: and this I contrasted with real Time. TIME, REAL AND IMAGINARY. AN ALLEGORY On the wide level of a mountain's head, This far outstript the other; O'er rough and smooth, with even step he pass'd, THE RAVEN. A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY TO HIS LITTLE BROTHERS AND SISTERS. Underneath a huge oak tree There was, of swine, a huge company, Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high: Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. By the side of a river both deep and great. He went high and low, Over hill, over dale, did the black raven go. I can't tell half his adventures. * Seventeen or eighteen years ago, an artist of some celebrity was so pleased with this doggerel, that he amused himself with the thought of making a Child's Picture Book of it; but he could not hit on a picture for these four lines. I suggested a round-about with four seats, and the four seasons, as children, with Time for the shew man. At length he came back, and with him a she, They built them a nest in the topmost bough, At length he brought down the poor raven's own oak. His young ones were kill'd: for they could not depart, And their mother did die of a broken heart. The boughs from the trunk the woodman did sever— The old raven flew round and round, and caw'd to the blast. He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls- |