The grass hung wet on Rydal banks, The golden day with pearls adorning, When side by side with him we walked To meet midway the summer morning. The west wind took a softer breath, The sun himself seemed brighter shining, As through the porch the minstrel stepped, His eye sweet Nature’s look enshrining. He passed along the dewy sward, The linnet sang aloft, “Good morrow!” He plucked a bud, the flower awoke And smiled without one pang of sorrow. He spoke of all that graced the scene In tones that fell like music round us; We felt the charm descend, nor strove To break the rapturous spell that bound us. We listened with mysterious awe, Strange feeling mingling with our pleasure; We heard that day prophetic words,— High thoughts the heart must always treasure. Great Nature’s Priest! thy calm career, Since that sweet morn, on earth has ended; But who shall say thy mission died When, winged for heaven, thy soul ascended?
With Wordsworth at Rydal
More from Poet
|
Many a long, long year ago, Nantucket skippers had a plan Of finding out, though “lying low,” How near New York their schooners ran. They greased the lead before it fell, And then by sounding through the night, Knowing the soil that stuck so well, They always guessed their reckoning... |
She came among the gathering crowd, A maiden fair, without pretence, And when they asked her humble name, She whispered mildly, “Common Sense.” Her modest garb drew every eye, Her ample cloak, her shoes of leather; And, when they sneered, she simply said, “I dress according to the weather.” They... |
The grass hung wet on Rydal banks, The golden day with pearls adorning, When side by side with him we walked To meet midway the summer morning. The west wind took a softer breath, The sun himself seemed brighter shining, As through the porch the minstrel stepped, His eye sweet Nature’s look... |