e same
day; the five last lines, at least, of his poem will impart to you
more of the feeling of the place than it would be possible for me to
do."

(Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland'.)
Writing to Sir Walter Scott (October 16, 1803), Wordsworth enclosed a
copy of this sonnet, with the variation of text which has been quoted.
Lockhart tells us

"in that original shape Scott always recited it, and few lines in the
language were more frequently in his mouth."

Compare Burns' 'Verses on the destruction of the Woods near Drumlanrig',
which refer to the same subject.--Ed.

* * * * *

YARROW UNVISITED

Composed 1803.--Published 1807

See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon the Banks of the
Yarrow; in particular, the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton, beginning:

"Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny Bride,
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow!"

W. W. 1807.

One of the "Poems of the Imagination" in 1815 and 1820.--Ed.

From Stirling castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;
Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled;
And when we came to Clovenford, 5
Then said my "_winsome Marrow_,"
"Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,
And see the Braes of Yarrow."

"Let Yarrow folk, _frae_ Selkirk town,
Who have been buying, selling, 10
Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own;
Each maiden to her dwelling!
On Yarrow's banks let herons feed,
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow!
But we will downward [1] with the Tweed, 15
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.

"There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
Both lying right before us;
And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed
The lintwhites sing in chorus; 20
There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land
Made blithe with plough and harrow:
Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow?

"What's Yarrow but a river bare, 25
That glides the dark hills under?
There are a thousand such elsewhere
As worthy of your wonder."
--Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn;
My True-love sighed for sorrow; 30
And looked me in the face, to think
I thus could speak of Yarrow!

"Oh! green," said I, "are Yarrow's holms,
And sweet is Yarrow flowing!
Fair hangs the app