'Twas all in vain, a useless matter, No word to any man he utters, XV. I WANDERED lonely as a Cloud That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills, A host of golden Daffodils; Beside the Lake, beneath the trees, Continuous as the stars that shine Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they In such a jocund company: I gazed and gazed- but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft when on my couch I lie And then my heart with pleasure fills, XVI. THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN. At the corner of Wood-street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the Bird. 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail; And a single small Cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only Dwelling on earth that she loves. She looks, and her Heart is in heaven: but they fade, XVII. POWER OF MUSIC. AN Orpheus! an Orpheus!- yes, Faith may grow bold, And take to herself all the wonders of old; Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the same In the street that from Oxford hath borrowed its name. His station is there - and he works on the crowd, e; He sways them with harmony merry and loud; What an eager assembly! what an empire is this! The weary have life, and the hungry have bliss; The mourner is cheered, and the anxious have rest; And the guilt-burthened soul is no longer opprest. |