And, as his Father had requested, laid

420 The first stone of the Sheep-fold. At the sight
The old Man's grief broke from him; to his heart
He pressed his Son, he kissèd him and wept;
And to the house together they returned.

Hushed was that House in peace, or seeming

peace,

425 Ere the night fell:-with morrow's dawn the Boy Began his journey, and when he had reached The public way, he put on a bold face; And all the neighbors, as he passed their doors, Came forth with wishes and with farewell 430 That followed him till he was out of sight.

prayers,

A good report did from their Kinsman come,
Of Luke and his well-doing: and the Boy
Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news,
Which, as the Housewise phrased it, were
throughout

435 "The prettiest letters that were ever seen."
Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts.
So, many months passed on; and once again
The Shepherd went about his daily work
With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now
440 Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour
He to that valley took his way, and there
Wrought at the Sheep-fold.

began

Meantime Luke

To slacken in his duty; and, at length,
He in the dissolute city gave himself

445 To evil courses: ignominy and shame
Fell on him, so that he was driven at last
To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas.

There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else 450 Would overset the brain, or break the heart: I have conversed with more than one who well Remember the old Man, and what he was

Years after he had heard this heavy news. His bodily frame had been from youth to age 455 Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks

He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, And listened to the wind; and, as before, Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, And for the land, his small inheritance. 460 And to that hollow dell from time to time Did he repair, to build the Fold of which His flock had need. 'Tis not forgotten yet The pity which was then in every heart For the old Man-and 'tis believed by all 465 That many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone.

There, by the Sheep-fold, sometimes was he seen,

Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog,

Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.

470 The length of full seven years, from time to time, He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died. Three years, or little more, did Isabel

Survive her husband: at her death the estate 475 Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand.

The Cottage which was named The Evening Star Is gone the plowshare has been through the ground

On which it stood; great changes have been wrought

In all the neighborhood:-yet the oak is left 480 That grew beside their door; and the remains Of the unfinished Sheep-fold may be seen

Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll.

MY HEART LEAPS UP

(1807)

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;

5 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 SOLITARY REAPER

(1807)

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!

5 Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O, listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chaunt
10 More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird, 15 Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?-
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
20 And battles long ago:

Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

25 Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;—
I listened, motionless and still;
30 And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,

5 The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;-
Turn wheresoe'er I may,

10

15

By night or day,

The things which I have seen I now can see no

more.

II.

The Rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is th Rose,

The Moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare,

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

20

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where'er I go,

That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

III.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,

To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:

25 The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;

30

Land and sea

Give themselves up to jollity,

And with the heart of May

Doth every Beast keep holiday;

Thou Child of Joy,

35 Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!

40

45

IV.

Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see

The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,

My head hath its coronal,

The fulness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen

While Earth herself is adorning,

This sweet May-morning,

And the Children are culling

On every side,