We talked of change, of winter gone, To her these tales they will repeat, - But, see, the evening Star comes forth! To bed the Children must depart ; A moment's heaviness they feel, A sadness at the heart: They run up stairs in gamesome race; I could have joined the wanton chase. Asleep upon their beds they lie; VII. LUCY GRAY, Or Solitude. OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray: No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide Moor, The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You yet may spy the Fawn at play, The Hare upon the Green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. "To-night will be a stormy nightYou to the Town must go; And take a lantern, Child, to light Your mother through the snow." "That, Father! will I gladly do; 'Tis scarcely afternoon The Minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the Moon." At this the Father raised his hook He plied his work; and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe: With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, up like smoke. That rises The storm came on before its time: She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb; But never reached the Town. The wretched Parents, all that night, Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide. At day-break on a hill they stood That overlooked the Moor; And thence they saw the Bridge of woo !, A furlong from their door. And, turning homeward, now they cried "In Heaven we all shall meet!" -When in the snow the Mother spied The print of Lucy's feet. Then downward from the steep hill's edge They tracked the footmarks small: And through the broken hawthorn-hedge, And by the long stone-wall: And then an open field they crossed: The marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the Bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank And further there were none ! |