Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days, Upon the prey :—with leaps and springs TO THE CUCKOO. Composed March 22, 1801-1802. Published 1807 O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice. O Cuckoo shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off, and near. Though babbling only to the Vale, Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days Which made me look a thousand ways To seek thee did I often rove And I can listen to thee yet; O blessed Bird! the earth we pace An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for Thee ! "MY HEART LEAPS UP.” Composed March 26, 1802. My heart leaps up when I behold So was it when my life began; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; Published 1807. Bound each to each by natural piety. THE GLOW-WORM. (22) Composed April 12, 1802. Published 1807. AMONG all lovely things my Love had been ; While riding near her home one stormy night Upon a leaf the glow-worm did I lay, To bear it with me through the stormy night: When to the dwelling of my Love I came, I went into the orchard quietly; And left the glow-worm, blessing it by name, The whole next day I hoped, and hoped with fear; WRITTEN IN MARCH, WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF BROTHER'S WATER. Composed April 16, 1802. THE Cock is crowing, Published 1807. The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest ; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated On the top of the bare hill; The plough-boy is whooping-anon-anon : There's life in the fountains; Blue sky prevailing ; The rain is over and gone! THE REDBREAST CHASING THE BUTTERFLY. ART thou the bird whom Man loves best, Our little English Robin; The bird that comes about our doors And Russia far inland? The bird, that by some name or other And see this sight beneath the skies, If the butterfly knew but his friend, Under the branches of the tree : Can this be the bird, to man so good, That, after their bewildering, Covered with leaves the little children, So painfully in the wood? What ailed thee, Robin, that thou couldst pursue A beautiful creature, That is gentle by nature? Beneath the summer sky From flower to flower let him fly; 'Tis all that he wishes to do. The cheerer Thou of our indoor sadness, He is the friend of our summer gladness: His beautiful wings in crimson are drest, Composed April 20, 1802. TO A BUTTERFLY. I'VE watched you now a full half-hour, I know not if you sleep or feed. What joy awaits you, when the breeze This plot of orchard-ground is ours; Published 1807. My trees they are, my Sister's flowers; Here rest your wings when they are weary; Here lodge as in a sanctuary! Come often to us, fear no wrong; Sit near us, on the bough! We'll talk of sunshine and of song ; And summer days when we were young; TO THE SMALL CELANDINE. Composed April 30, 1802. PANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies, They will have a place in story: Published 1807. |