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Child of the Year! that round dost run
As morning Leveret,
Art Nature's Favorite
I met Louisa in' the shade;
And, having seen that lovely Maid,
Why should I fear to say
That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong;
And down the rocks can leap along.
Like rivulets in May?
And she hath smiles to earth unknown;
She loves her fire, her Cottage-home:
Take all that's mine "beneath the moon,"
If I with her but half a noon
May sit beneath the walls
Of some old cave, or mossy nook,
When up she winds along the brook.
To hunt the waterfalls.
A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
The Dog is not of mountain breed;
It's motions, too, are wild and shy;
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in it's cry:
Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in Hollow or on Height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
What is the Creature doing here?
It was a Cove, a huge Recess,
That keeps till June December's snow;
A lofty Precipice in front,
A silent Tarn * below!
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public Road or Dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.
* Tarn is a small Mere or Lake mostly high up in the mountains.