Lines Written in Early Spring I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man. Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; 10 And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure:-- But the least motion which they made It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there. 20 If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature's holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man? 1798 SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! --Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; 10 But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!
1799.
LUCY
(518)
THREE years she grew in sun and shower;
Then
Nature said, 'A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This
child I to myself will take;
She
shall be mine, and I will make
A lady of my own.
"Myself
will to my darling be
Both
law and impulse: and with me
The girl, in rock and plain,
In
earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall
feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.
'She
shall be sportive as the fawn
That
wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And
hers shall be the breathing balm,
And
hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
'The
floating clouds their state shall lend
To
her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Even
in the motions of the storm
Grace
that shall mould the maiden's form
By silent sympathy.
'The
stars of midnight shall be dear
To
her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where
rivulets dance their wayward round,
And
beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
LUCY
(519)
A SLUMBER did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She
seem'd a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No
motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Roll'd
round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
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: 10 Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did 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, 20 They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. 1804.
A FLOCK of sheep that leisurely pass by, One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky; I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie Sleepless! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: 10 So do not let me wear to-night away: Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
1806