Page images
PDF
EPUB

I see thee glittering from afar-
And then thou art a pretty star;
Not quite so fair as many are
In heaven above thee!

Yet like a star, with glittering crest,

Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest ;—
May peace come never to his nest,
Who shall reprove thee !

Bright Flower! for by that name at last,
When all my reveries are past,

I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
Sweet silent creature!

That breath'st with me in sun and air;
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
My heart with gladness, and a share
Of thy meek nature!

TO THE SAME FLOWER,

BRIGHT Flower! whose home is everywhere,
Bold in maternal Nature's care,

And all the long year through, the heir
Of joy or sorrow.

Methinks that there abides in thee

Some concord with humanity,

Given to no other flower I see
The forest thorough!

Is it that Man is soon deprest?

A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest,
Does little on his memory rest,

1805.

Or on his reason,

And Thou would'st teach him how to find
A shelter under every wind,

A hope for times that are unkind
And every season?

Thou wander'st the wide world about,
Unchecked by pride or scrupulous doubt,
With friends to greet thee, or without,
Yet pleased and willing;

Meek, yielding to the occasion's call,
And all things suffering from all,
Thy function apostolical
In peace fulfilling.

1803.

TO THE SAME FLOWER.*

SWEET Flower! belike one day to have
A place upon thy Poet's grave,
I welcome thee once more :

But He, who was on land, at sea,
My Brother, too, in loving thee,
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.

Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that Ship he bent his way,

[ocr errors]

* This beautiful poem was written in commemoration of the death of the Poet's brother, John Wordsworth, who commanded the Abergavenny, " E. I. Company's ship, and was wrecked near the shore of the Isle of Wight, February, 1805.

To govern and to guide:

His wish was gained: a little time
Would bring him back in manhood's prime
And free for life, these hills to climb;
With all his wants supplied.

And full of hope day followed day

While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;

The May had then made all things green;

And, floating there, in pomp serene,

That Ship was goodly to be seen,
His pride and his delight!

Yet then, when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought:
In more than happy mood

To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers!
He then would steal at leisure hours,
And loved you glittering in your bowers,
A starry multitude.

But hark the word !—the ship is gone ;-
Returns from her long course :-anon
Sets sail :-in season due,

Once more on English earth they stand :
But, when a third time from the land
They parted, sorrow was at hand
For Him and for his crew.

Ill-fated Vessel!-ghastly shock!

-At length delivered from the rock,

The deep she hath regained;

And through the stormy night they steer;
Labouring for life, in hope and fear,

To reach a safer shore-how near,
Yet not to be attained!

"Silence!" the brave Commander cried;
To that calm word a shriek replied,
It was the last death-shriek.

-A few (my soul oft sees that sight)
Survive upon the tall mast's height;
But one dear remnant of the night—
For Him in vain I seek.*

Six weeks beneath the moving sea
He lay in slumber quietly;
Unforced by wind or wave

To quit the Ship for which he died,
(All claims of duty satisfied;)

And there they found him at her side;
And bore him to the grave.

Vain service! yet not vainly done
For this, if other end were none,

* As this stanza was originally published, it contained-probably through inadvertence-eight lines, while the rest of the stanzas contained but seven. The condensation required in order to get rid of the line, certainly improves the stanza, and it shows how much at home Wordsworth was in "the accomplishment of verse." The stanza stood thus:

Silence the brave commander cried,

To that calm word a shriek replied,

It was the last death-shriek.

-A few appear by morning light

Preserved upon the tall mast's height:
Oft on my soul I see that sight;
But one dear remnant of the night-
For him in vain I seek.

That He, who had been cast
Upon a way of life unmeet

For such a gentle Soul and sweet,
Should find an undisturbed retreat
Near what he loved, at last-

That neighbourhood of grove and field
To Him a resting-place should yield,
A meek man and a brave !

The birds shall sing and ocean make
A mournful murmur for his sake;

And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake
Upon his senseless grave.

THE GREEN LINNET.

BENEATH these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow-white blossoms on my head,
With brightest sunshine round me spread
Of spring's unclouded weather,

In this sequestered nook how sweet
To sit upon my orchard-seat!

And birds and flowers once more to greet,
My last year's friends together.

One have I marked, the happiest guest

In all this covert of the blest;

Hail to Thee, far above the rest

In joy of voice and pinion!

Thou, Linnet! in thy green array,
Presiding Spirit here to-day,

Dost lead the revels of the May;

And this is thy dominion.

1805.

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »