THE SAILOR'S MOTHER. One morning (raw it was and wet A woman on the road I met, Not old, though something past her prime : Majestic in her person, tall and straight; And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait. The ancient spirit is not dead: Old times, thought I, are breathing there; Such strength, a dignity so fair; She begged an alms, like one in poor estate : I looked at her again, nor did my pride abate. When from these lofty thoughts I woke, She answered, soon as she the question heard "A simple burden, Sir, a little singing-bird." And, thus continuing, she said, And I have travelled many miles to see If aught which he had owned might still remain for me. "The bird and cage they both were his ; This singing-bird had gone with him : When last he sail'd, he left the bird behind: From bodings, as might be, that hung upon his mind. "He to a fellow-lodger's care I bear it with me, Sir :-he took so much delight in it." Wordsworth. She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways. 215 SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS. She dwelt among the untrodden ways A maid whom there were none to praise, A violet by a mossy stone She lived unknown, and few could know But she is in her grave, and, oh! The difference to me! Wordsworth. I travelled among unknown men, 'Tis past, that melancholy dream! A second time for still I seem Among thy mountains did I feel And she I cherished turned her wheel Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed The bowers where Lucy played; And thine, too, is the last green field That Lucy's eyes surveyed. Wordsworth. TO A BUTTERFLY. I've watched you now a short half-hour, I know not if you sleep or feed. What joy awaits you, when the breeze This plot of orchard-ground is ours: Here rest your wings when they are weary: 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; Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now. Wordsworth. THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS We walked along, while bright and red And Matthew stopped, he looked, and said, "The will of God be done!" A village schoolmaster was he, With hair of glittering grey; As blithe a man as you could see And on that morning, through the grass, And by the steaming rills, We travelled merrily, to pass A day among the hills. |