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NUTTING.

It seems a day,

(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days which cannot die,
When forth I sallied from our Cottage-door*,
And with a wallet o'er my
shoulder slung,

A nutting crook in hand, I turned my steps.
Towards the distant woods, a Figure quaint,

Tricked out in proud disguise of Beggar's weeds
Put on for the occasion, by advice

And exhortation of my frugal Dame.

Motley accoutrement! of power to smile

* The house at which I was boarded during the time I was at School.

At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, and, in truth,

More ragged than need was. Among the woods,

And o'er the pathless rocks, I forced my way
Until, at length, I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough

Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation, but the hazels rose

Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung,
A virgin scene!—A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and with wise restraint
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed

The banquet, or beneath the trees I sate
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played;
A temper known to those, who, after long
And weary expectation, have been blessed
With sudden happiness beyond all hope.-
Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves

The violets of five seasons re-appear

And fade, unseen by any human eye;

Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
For ever, and I saw the sparkling foam,

And with my cheek on one of those green stone's
That, fleeced with moss, beneath the shady trees,
Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep,
I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure,

The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,

And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with

crash

And merciless ravage; and the shady nook

Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up

Their quiet being: and, unless I now

Confound my present feelings with the past,

Even then, when from the bower I turned away

Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,

1 felt a sense of pain when I beheld

The silent trees and the intruding sky.

Then, dearest Maiden! move along these shades In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand

Touch, for there is a Spirit in the woods.

Three years she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown;

This Child I to myself will take;

She shall be mine, and I will make

A Lady of my own.

"Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse; and with me

The Girl, in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,

Shall feel an overseeing power

To kindle or restrain.

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