Which brought us hither;

Can in a moment travel thither

And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound

As to the tabor's sound!

We, in thought, will join your throng
Ye that pipe and ye that play,

Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!

What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind,
In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be,
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering,

In the faith that looks through death,

In years that bring the philosophic mind.

And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forbode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;

I only have relinquish'd one delight

To live beneath your more habitual sway;

I love the brooks which down their channels fret Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born day

Is lovely yet;

The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;

Another race hath been, and other palms are won.

365

366

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

MY HEART LEAPS UP

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began,

So is it now I am a man,

So be it when I shall grow old

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man:
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS

WE walk'd along, while bright and red
Uprose the morning sun;

And Matthew stopp'd, he look'd, and said.
'The will of God be done!'

A village schoolmaster was he,
With hair of glittering gray;

As blithe a man as you could see

On a spring holiday.

And on that morning, through the grass

And by the steaming rills

We travell'd merrily, to pass

A day among the hills.

'Our work,' said I, 'was well begun;
Then from thy breast what thought,
Beneath so beautiful a sun,

So sad a sigh has brought?'

A second time did Matthew stop;
And fixing still his eye

Upon the eastern mountain-top,
To me he made reply:

'Yon cloud with that long purple cleft

Brings fresh into my mind

A day like this, which I have left
Full thirty years behind.

'And just above yon slope of corn

Such colours, and no other,

Were in the sky that April morn

Of this the very brother.

'With rod and line I sued the sport

Which that sweet season gave,

And coming to the church, stopp'd short

Beside my daughter's grave.

'Nine summers had she scarcely seen,

The pride of all the vale;

And then she sang:-she would have been A very nightingale.

'Six feet in earth my Emma lay;

And yet I loved her more

For so it seem'd,—than till that day
I e'er had loved before.

'And turning from her grave, I met,
Beside the churchyard yew,

A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet
With points of morning dew.

'A basket on her head she bare; Her brow was smooth and white:

To see a child so very fair,

It was a pure delight!

'No fountain from its rocky cave
E'er tripp'd with foot so free;
She seem'd as happy as a wave
That dances on the sea.

'There came from me a sigh of pain
Which I could ill confine;

I look'd at her, and look'd again:
And did not wish her mine!'

-Matthew is in his grave, yet now
Methinks I see him stand

As at that moment, with a bough
Of wilding in his hand.

367

THE FOUNTAIN

A Conversation

WE talk'd with open heart, and tongue
Affectionate and true,

A pair of friends, though I was young,
And Matthew seventy-two.

We lay beneath a spreading oak,

Beside a mossy seat;

And from the turf a fountain broke

And gurgled at our feet.

'Now, Matthew!' said I, 'let us match

This water's pleasant tune

With some old border-song, or catch
That suits a summer's noon.

'Or of the church-clock and the chimes

Sing here beneath the shade

That half-mad thing of witty rhymes

Which you last April made!'

In silence Matthew lay, and eyed

The spring beneath the tree;
And thus the dear old man replied,

The gray-hair'd man of glee:

'No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears, How merrily it goes!

"Twill murmur on a thousand years

And flow as now it flows.

And here, on this delightful day,

I cannot choose but think

How oft, a vigorous man, I lay
Beside this fountain's brink.

'My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirr'd,

For the same sound is in my ears

Which in those days I heard.

'Thus fares it still in our decay:

And yet the wiser mind

Mourns less for what Age takes away,

Than what it leaves behind.

'The blackbird amid leafy trees,

The lark above the hill,

Let loose their carols when they please,

Are quiet when they will.

'With Nature never do they wage

A foolish strife; they see

A happy youth, and their old age

Is beautiful and free:

'But we are press'd by heavy laws;

And often, glad no more,

We wear a face of joy, because

We have been glad of yore.