She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

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;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

William Wordsworth

Why Was Cupid a Boy?

Why was Cupid a boy,
And why a boy was he?
He should have been a girl,
For aught that I can see.

For he shoots with his bow,
And the girl shoots with her eye,
And they both are merry and glad,
And laugh when we do cry.

And to make Cupid a boy
Was the Cupid girl's mocking plan;
For a boy can't interpret the thing
Till he is become a man.

And then he's so pierc'd with cares,
And wounded with arrowy smarts,
That the whole business of his life
Is to pick out the heads of the darts.

'Twas the Greeks' love of war
Turn'd Love into a boy,
And woman into a statue of stone--
And away fled every joy.

William Blake

The Angel

I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!

And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart's delight.

So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten-thousand shields and spears.

Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.

William Blake

Daffodils

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:
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,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth

Lucy

By William Wordsworth

I

Strange fits of passion have I known:
And I will dare to tell,
But in the lover`s ear alone,
What once to me befell.

When she I loved look`d every day
Fresh as a rose in June,
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath an evening moon.

Upon the moon I fix`d my eye,
All over the wide lea;
With quickening pace my horse drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.

And now we reach`d the orchard - plot;
And, as we climb`d the hill,
The sinking moon to Lucy`s cot
Came near and nearer still.

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature`s gentlest boon!
And all the while my eyes I kept
On the descending moon.

My horse moved on; hoof after hoof
He raised, and never stopp`d:
When down behind the cottage roof,
At once, the bright moon dropp`d.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a lover`s head!
`O mercy!` to myself I cried,
`If Lucy should be dead!`

II

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;
But she is in her grave, and, O!
The difference to me!

III

I travell`d among unknown men
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.

`Tis past, the melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time, for still I seem
To love thee more and more.

Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire;
And she I cherish`d turn`d her wheel
Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings show`d, thy nights conceal`d
The bowers where Lucy play`d;
And thine too is the last green field
That Lucy`s eyes survey`d.

IV

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 her`s shall be the breathing balm,
And her`s 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
E`en 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.

`And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
Where she and I together live
Here in this happy dell.`

Thus Nature spake - The work was done -
How soon my Lucy`s race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be.

V

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.
Inner Vision, The

Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path there be or none
While a fair region round the Traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;

Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.

- If Thought and Love desert us, from that day
Let us break off all commerce with the Muse:
With Thought and Love companions of our way -

Whate`er the senses take or may refuse, -
The Mind`s internal heaven shall shed her dews
Of inspiration on the humblest lay.