MICHAEL, A PASTORAL POEM. If from the public way you turn your steps As journey thither find themselves alone With a few sheep, with rocks and stones, and kites That overhead are sailing in the sky. It is in truth an utter solitude; Nor should I have made mention of this Dell But for one object which you might pass by, Might see and notice not. Beside the brook There is a straggling heap of unhewn stones! And to that place a story appertains, Which, though it be ungarnished with events, Or for the summer shade. It was the first, For their own sakes, but for the fields and hills And hence this Tale, while I was yet a Boy Of natural objects led me on to feel For passions that were not my own, and think (At random and imperfectly indeed) On man, the heart of man, and human life. Homely and rude, I will relate the same UPON the Forest-side in Grasmere Vale |