We go for one to whom ye will be dear;
And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed,
Our own contrivance, Building without peer!

- A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred,
Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered,
With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer,
Will come to you; to you herself will wed,
And love the blessed life that we lead here.

Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed,
Bringing the chosen plants and blossoms blown
Among the distant mountains, flower and weed,
Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own,
Making all kindness registered and known;
Thou for our sakes, though Nature's child indeed,
Fair in thyself and beautiful alone,

Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need.

And O most constant, yet most fickle Place,

That hast thy wayward moods, as thou dost show
To them who look not daily on thy face;

Who, being loved, in love no bounds dost know,
And say'st, when we forsake thee, "Let them go !"
Thou easy-hearted Thing, with thy wild race
Of weeds and flowers, till we return be slow,
And travel with the year at a soft pace,

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Help us to tell Her tales of years gone by,

And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best;
Joy will be flown in its mortality;

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Something must stay to tell us of the rest.

Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock's breast
Glittered at evening like a starry sky;

And in this bush our sparrow built her nest,
Of which I sang one song that will not die.

O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep
Hath been so friendly to industrious hours;
And to soft slumbers, that did gently steep

Our spirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers

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And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers,

Two burning months let summer overleap,
And coming back with Her who will be ours,
Into thy bosom we again shall creep.

STANZAS.

WRITTEN IN MY POCKET-COPY OF THOMSON'S CASTLE OF

INDOLENCE.

1802. 1815.

WITHIN Our happy Castle there dwelt One
Whom without blame I may not overlook;
For never sun on living creature shone
Who more devout enjoyment with us took;
Here on his hours he hung as on a book,
On his own time here would he float away,

As doth a fly upon a summer brook ;

But go to-morrow, or belike to-day,

Seek for him, he is fled; and whither none can say

Thus often would he leave our peaceful home,
And find elsewhere his business or delight;

Out of our Valley's limits did he roam :
Full many a time, upon a stormy night,

His voice came to us from the neighboring height:
Oft could we see him driving full in view
At mid-day when the sun was shining bright;
What ill was on him, what he had to do,
A mighty wonder bred among our quiet crew.

Ah! piteous sight it was to see this Man
When he came back to us, a withered flower,
Or like a sinful creature, pale and wan.

Down would he sit; and without strength or power
Look at the common grass from hour to hour:
And oftentimes, how long I fear to say,

Where apple-trees in blossom made a bower,
Retired in that sunshiny shade he lay ;
And, like a naked Indian, slept himself away.

IO

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Great wonder to our gentle tribe it was
Whenever from our Valley he withdrew;
For happier soul no living creature has
Than he had, being here the long day through.
Some thought he was a lover, and did woo;
Some thought far worse of him, and judged him wrong:
But verse was what he had been wedded to;

And his own mind did like a tempest strong

Come to him thus, and drove the weary Wight along.

With him there often walked in friendly guise,
Or lay upon the moss by brook or tree,

A noticeable Man, with large gray eyes,
And a pale face that seemed undoubtedly
As if a blooming face it ought to be;
Heavy his low-hung lip did oft appear,
Deprest by weight of musing Phantasy;

Profound his forehead was, though not severe;

Yet some did think that he had little business here:

Sweet heaven forefend! his was a lawful right;
Noisy he was, and gamesome as a boy;

His limbs would toss about him with delight,

Like branches when strong winds the trees annoy.
Nor lacked his calmer hours device or toy
To banish listlessness and irksome care;

He would have taught you how you might employ
Yourself; and many did to him repair, —
And certes not in vain; he had inventions rare.

Expedients, too, of simplest sort he tried :

Long blades of grass plucked round him as he lay,
Made, to his ear attentively applied,

A pipe on which the wind would deftly play;
Glasses he had, that little things display, -

The beetle panoplied in gems of gold,

A mailed angel on a battle-day;

The mysteries that cups of flowers enfold,

And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold.

He would entice that other Man to hear

His music, and to view his imagery:

And sooth, these two were each to the other dear;

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No livelier love in such a place could be:
There did they dwell, from earthly labor free,
As happy spirits as were ever seen;

If but a bird, to keep them company,

Or butterfly sate down, they were, I ween,

As pleased as if the same had been a Maiden-queen.

"THE SUN HAS LONG BEEN SET."

1802. - 1807.

THE sun has long been set,

The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet

Among the bushes and trees;

There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,
And a far-off wind that rushes,

And a sound of water that gushes,
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry

Fills all the hollow of the sky.
Who would "go parading"

In London," and masquerading,"
On such a night of June

With that beautiful soft half-moon,
On all these innocent blisses?

On such a night as this is!