With one sensation, and those wakeful Birds As if one quick and sudden Gale had swept On blosmy twig still swinging from the breeze, Farewell, O Warbler! till to-morrow eve, And you, my friends! farewell, a short farewell! We have been loitering long and pleasantly, And now for our dear homes.-That strain again! Full fain it would delay me !-My dear Babe, Who, capable of no articulate sound, Mars all things with his imitative lisp, How he would place his hand beside his ear, And bid us listen! And I deem it wise To make him Nature's playmate. He knows well The evening star: and once when he awoke In most distressful mood (some inward pain Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream) And he beholds the moon, and hush'd at once well. THE FEMALE VAGRANT. W. By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood, (The Woman thus her artless story told) One field, a flock, and what the neighbouring flood Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold. Light was my sleep; my days in transport roll'd: With thoughtless joy I stretch'd along the shore My father's nets, or watched, when from the fold High o'er the cliffs I led my fleecy store, A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar. My father was a good and pious man, To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed, Can I forget what charms did once adorn My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme, The swans, that, when I sought the water-side, pride. |