This little bay; a quiet road That holds in shelter thy Abode Like something fashioned in a dream; But, O fair Creature! in the light 1Ο 15 20 For thee when I am far away: 25 Benignity and home-bred sense Here scattered, like a random seed, Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach Though but of common neighbourhood. Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace UP with me! up with me into the clouds! Up with me, up with me into the clouds! Up to thee would I fly. There is madness about thee, and joy divine In that song of thine; Lift me, guide me high and high To thy banqueting-place in the sky. Joyous as morning Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, 15 And, though little troubled with sloth, To be such a traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain river Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven, Through prickly moors or dusty ways must wind; As full of gladness and as free of heaven, I, with my fate contented, will plod on, And hope for higher raptures, when life's day is done. TO THE CUCKOO. O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice. O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off, and near. Though babbling only to the Vale, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; 20 25 30 5 10 15 COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR. JULY 13, 1798. FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a soft inland murmur. - Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, 5 Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky. IO These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, |