Mourns less for what age takes away The blackbird amid leafy trees, The lark above the hill, Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. With Nature never do they wage A happy youth, and their old age But we are pressed by heavy laws; And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because If there be one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own; It is the man of mirth. My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none Am I enough beloved."* "Now both himself and me he wrongs, The man who thus complains! I live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains; * Coleridge bestows especial praise on "the six beautiful quatrains" of which this is the last. And, Matthew, for thy children dead At this he grasped my hand, and said, We rose up from the fountain-side; Of the green sheep-track did we glide; And, ere we came to Leonard's rock, REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS, COMPOSED UPON THE THAMES NEAR RICHMOND. GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide, O Thames! that other bards may see Vain thought!-Yet be as now thou art, That in thy waters may be seen The image of a poet's heart, How bright, how solemn, how serene ! Such as did once the Poet bless, Now let us, as we float along, 1789. LINES WRITTEN WHILE SAILING IN A BOAT AT EVENING.† How richly glows the water's breast While, facing thus the crimson west, And see how dark the backward stream! * Collins's Ode on the death of Thomson, the last written, I believe, of the poems which were published during his life-time. This Ode is also alluded to in the next stanza.-W. W. Julius C. Hare remarks that many persons have so little feeling of what is original and beautiful in poetry that they wish Wordsworth had always written verses of such ordinary character as those in this short poem! Such views the youthful Bard allure; PERSONAL TALK. 1789. I. I AM not One who much or oft delight II. "Yet life," you say, "is life; we have seen and see, And with a living pleasure we describe; And fits of sprightly malice do but bribe Sound sense, and love itself, and mirth and glee III. Wings have we,-and as far as we can go Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow. There find I personal themes, a plenteous store, To which I listen with a ready ear; * Two shall be named, pre-eminently dear,— *There do I find a never failing store Of personal themes, and such as I love best; Matter wherein right voluble I am ; Two will I mention dearer than the rest.-Edit. 1815. |