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LYRICAL BALLADS,

WITH

PASTORAL

AND

OTHER POEMS.

Pectus enim id est quod disertos facit, et vis mentis; ideoque imperitis quoque, si modo sint aliquo affectu concitati, verba non desunt.

EXPOSTULATION

AND

REPLY.

“ Why, William, on that old gray stone,
“ Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone,
“ And dream your time away?

Where are your books that light bequeath'd “ To beings else forlorn and blind ! "Up! up! and drink the spirit breath'd From dead men to their kind,

“You look round on your mother earth,
“ As if she for no purpose bore you ;
As if you were her first-born birth,
And none had lived before you!"

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake,
When life was sweet, I knew not why,
To me my good friend Matthew spake,
And thus I made reply :

The eye it cannot choose but see;
“ We cannot bid the ear be still;
“Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
“ Against, or with our will.

“ Nor less I deem that there are powers Which of thenıselves our minds impress; “ That we can feed this mind of ours " In a wise passiveness.

“ Think you, mid all this mighty sum
Of things for ever speaking,
“ That nothing of itself will come,
“But we must still be seeking ?

“ –Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, “ Conversing as I may, “ I sit upon this old gray stone, “ And dream my time away."

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