And, with this silent gloom agreeing,
Appears a joyless human Being,
Of aspect such as if the waste
Were under her dominion placed.
Upon a primrose bank, her throne
Of quietness, she sits alone;
Among the ruins of a wood,

Erewhile a covert bright and green,

And where full many a brave tree stood,
That used to spread its boughs, and ring
With the sweet birds' carolling.

Behold her, like a virgin Queen,

Neglecting in imperial state
These outward images of fate,

And carrying inward a serene

And perfect sway, through many a thought
Of chance and change, that hath been brought
To the subjection of a holy,

Though stern and rigorous melancholy!
The like authority, with grace

Of awfulness, is in her face,

There hath she fixed it; yet it seems

To o'ershadow by no native right

That face, which cannot lose the gleams,
Lose utterly the tender gleams,
Of gentleness and meek delight,
And loving-kindness ever bright:
Such is her sovereign mien :-her dress
(A vest with woollen cincture tied,
A hood of mountain-wool undyed)
Is homely,-fashioned to express
A wandering Pilgrim's humbleness.

And she hath wandered, long and far,
Beneath the light of sun and star;

Hath roamed in trouble and in grief,
Driven forward like a withered leaf,
Yea like a ship at random blown
To distant places and unknown.
But now she dares to seek a haven
Among her native wilds of Craven ;
Hath seen again her Father's roof,
And put her fortitude to proof;
The mighty sorrow hath been borne,
And she is thoroughly forlorn:
Her soul doth in itself stand fast,
Sustained by memory of the past
And strength of Reason; held above
The infirmities of mortal love;
Undaunted, lofty, calm, and stable,
And awfully impenetrable.

And so beneath a mouldered tree,

A self-surviving leafless oak

By unregarded age from stroke

Of ravage saved-sate Emily.

There did she rest, with head reclined,

Herself most like a stately flower

(Such have I seen) whom chance of birth

Hath separated from its kind,

To live and die in a shady bower,

Single on the gladsome earth.

When, with a noise like distant thunder,

A troop of deer came sweeping by;
And, suddenly, behold a wonder!

For One, among those rushing deer,

A single One, in mid career

Hath stopped, and fixed her large full eye Upon the Lady Emily:

A doe most beautiful, clear-white,
A radiant creature, silver-bright!

Thus checked, a little while it stayed;
A little thoughtful pause it made;
And then advanced with stealth-like pace,
Drew softly near her, and more near-
Looked round-but saw no cause for fear;
So to her feet the Creature came,
And laid its head upon her knee,
And looked into the Lady's face,
A look of pure benignity,
And fond unclouded memory.
It is, thought Emily, the same,
The very Doe of other years!-

The pleading look the Lady viewed,
And, by her gushing thoughts subdued,
She melted into tears.-

A flood of tears, that flowed apace,
Upon the happy Creature's face.

Oh, moment ever blest! O Pair
Beloved of Heaven, Heaven's chosen care,
This was for you a precious greeting;
And may it prove a fruitful meeting!
Joined are they, and the sylvan Doe
Can she depart? can she forego
The Lady, once her playful peer,
And now her sainted Mistress dear?
And will not Emily receive

This lovely chronicler of things
Long past, delights and sorrowings?
Lone Sufferer! will not she believe
The promise in that speaking face;

And welcome, as a gift of grace,

The saddest thou ht the Creature brings?

That day, the first of a re-union
Which was to teem with high communion,
That day of balmy April weather,

They tarried in the wood together.
And when, ere fall of evening dew,
She from her sylvan haunt withdrew,
The White Doe tracked with faithful pace
The Lady to her dwelling-place;
That nook where, on paternal ground,

A habitation she had found,

The Master of whose humble board

Once owned her Father for his Lord;

A hut, by tufted trees defended,

Where Rylstone brook with Wharf is blended.

When Emily by morning light

Went forth, the Doe stood there in sight.
She shrunk with one frail shock of pain
Received and followed by a prayer,

She saw the Creature once again;
Shun will she not, she feels, will bear;—
But, wheresoever she looked round,
All now was trouble-haunted ground;
And therefore now she deems it good
Once more this restless neighborhood
To leave. Unwooed, yet unforbidden,
The White Doe followed up the vale,
Up to another cottage, hidden
In the deep fork of Amerdale;
And there may Emily restore
Herself, in spots unseen before.

-Why tell of mossy rock, or tree,
By lurking Dernbrook's pathless side,
Haunts of a strengthening amity

That calmed her, cheered, and fortified?
For she hath ventured now to read

Of time, and place, and thought, and deed-
Endless history that lies

In her silent Follower's eyes;

Who with a power like human reason
Discerns the favorable season,

Skilled to approach or to retire,
From looks conceiving her desire;
From look, deportment, voice, or mien,
That vary to the heart within.
If she too passionately wreathed
Her arms, or over-deeply breathed,
Walked quick, or slowly, every mood
In its degree was understood;
Then well may their accord be true,
And kindliest intercourse ensue.
-Oh! surely 't was a gentle rousing
When she by sudden glimpse espied
The White Doe on the mountain browsing,
Or in the meadow wandered wide!

How pleased, when down the straggler sank
Beside her, on some sunny bank!

How soothed, when in thick bower enclosed, They, like a nested pair, reposed!

Fair Vision! when it crossed the Maid

Within some rocky cavern laid,

The dark cave's portal gliding by,
White as whitest cloud on high
Floating through the azure sky.