as the willow-skirted pool, 35
Where two fair swans together glide.
We talked of change, of winter gone,
Of green leaves on the hawthorn spray,
Of birds that build their nests and sing,
And all "since Mother went away!" 40
To her these tales they will repeat,
To her our new-born tribes will show,
The goslings green, the ass's colt,
The lambs that in the meadow go.
--But, see, the evening star comes forth! 45
To bed the children must depart;
A moment's heaviness they feel,
A sadness at the heart:
'Tis gone--and in a merry fit
They run up stairs in gamesome race; 50
I, too, infected by their mood,
I could have joined the wanton chase.
Five minutes past--and, O the change!
Asleep upon their beds they lie;
Their busy limbs in perfect rest, 55
And closed the sparkling eye.
The Fenwick note is inaccurate. These lines were written by Dorothy
Wordsworth at Coleorton, on the eve of her brother and sister's return
from London, in the spring of 1807, whither they had gone for a
month--Dorothy remaining at Coleorton, in charge of the children.
Previous to 1845, the poem was attributed to "a female Friend of the
Author."--ED.
GIPSIES
Composed 1807.--Published 1807
[Composed at Coleorton. I had observed them, as here described, near
Castle Donnington, on my way to and from Derby.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
Yet are they here the same unbroken knot
Of human Beings, in the self-same spot!
Men, women, children, yea the frame
Of the whole spectacle the same!
Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light, 5
Now deep and red, the colouring of night;
That on their Gipsy-faces falls,
Their bed of straw and blanket-walls.
--Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours are gone, while I
Have been a traveller under open sky, 10
Much witnessing of change and cheer,
Yet as I left I find them here!
The weary Sun betook himself to rest;--
Then issued Vesper from the fulgent west,
Outshining like a visible God 15
The glorious path in which he trod.
And now, ascending, after one dark hour
And one night's diminution of her po
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