The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 (of 8)

Name: The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 (of 8)
Author: Wordsworth, William

Wordsworth, William

English poetry -- 18th century; English poetry -- 19th century

*       *       *       *       *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1815.

    ... I have been,    1798.]

[Variant 2:

1836.

    Then with his coat he made essay    1798.]

[Variant 3:

1832.

    ... a ewe ...    1798.]

[Variant 4:

1836.

    As sweet ...    1798.]

[Variant 5:

1836.

    Upon the mountain did they feed;    1798.]

[Variant 6:

1800.

    Ten ...    1798.]

[Variant 7:

1836.

    ... upon the mountain ...    1798.]

[Variant 8:

1827.

    They dwindled one by one away;
    For me it was a woeful day.    1798.]

[Variant 9:

1836.

    Oft-times I thought to run away;
    For me it was a woeful day.    1798.

    Bent oftentimes to flee from home,
    And hide my head where wild beasts roam.    1827.]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE IDIOT BOY

Composed 1798.--Published 1798.

  [Alfoxden, 1798. The last stanza, 'The cocks did crow to-whoo,
  to-whoo, and the sun did shine so cold,' was the foundation of the
  whole. The words were reported to me by my dear friend Thomas Poole;
  but I have since heard the same repeated of other idiots. Let me add,
  that this long poem was composed in the groves of Alfoxden, almost
  extempore; not a word, I believe, being corrected, though one stanza
  was omitted. I mention this in gratitude to those happy moments, for,
  in truth, I never wrote anything with so much glee.--I. F.]

One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."--Ed.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE POEM

  'Tis eight o'clock,--a clear March night,
  The moon is up,--the sky is blue,
  The owlet, in the moonlight air,
  Shouts from [1] nobody knows where;
  He lengthens out his lonely shout,                              5
  Halloo! halloo! a long halloo!

 --Why bustle thus about your door,
  What means this bustle, Betty Foy?
  Why are you in this mighty fret?
  And why on horseback have you set                              10
  Him whom you love, your Idiot Boy?
  [2]

  Scarcely a soul is out of bed: [3]
  Good Betty, put him down again;
  His lips with joy they burr at you;
  But, Betty! what has he to do                                  15
  With stirrup, saddle, or with rein?
  [4]

  But Betty's bent on her intent;
  For her good neighbour, Susan Gale,
  Old Susan, she who dwells alone,
  Is sick, and makes a piteous moan,                             20
  As if her very life would fail.

  There's not a house within a mile,
  No hand to help them in distress;
  Old Susan lies a-bed in pain,
  And sorely puzzled are the twain,                              25
  For what she ails they cannot guess.

  And Betty's husband's at the wood,
  Where by the week he doth abide,
  A woodman in the distant vale;
  There's none to help poor Susan Gale;                          30
  What must be done? what will betide?

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 (of 8)Wordsworth, William

General

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 (of 8)

Wordsworth, William

English poetry -- 18th century; English poetry -- 19th century

*       *       *       *       *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1815.

    ... I have been,    1798.]

[Variant 2:

1836.

    Then with his coat he made essay    1798.]

[Variant 3:

1832.

    ... a ewe ...    1798.]

[Variant 4:

1836.

    As sweet ...    1798.]

[Variant 5:

1836.

    Upon the mountain did they feed;    1798.]

[Variant 6:

1800.

    Ten ...    1798.]

[Variant 7:

1836.

    ... upon the mountain ...    1798.]

[Variant 8:

1827.

    They dwindled one by one away;
    For me it was a woeful day.    1798.]

[Variant 9:

1836.

    Oft-times I thought to run away;
    For me it was a woeful day.    1798.

    Bent oftentimes to flee from home,
    And hide my head where wild beasts roam.    1827.]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE IDIOT BOY

Composed 1798.--Published 1798.

  [Alfoxden, 1798. The last stanza, 'The cocks did crow to-whoo,
  to-whoo, and the sun did shine so cold,' was the foundation of the
  whole. The words were reported to me by my dear friend Thomas Poole;
  but I have since heard the same repeated of other idiots. Let me add,
  that this long poem was composed in the groves of Alfoxden, almost
  extempore; not a word, I believe, being corrected, though one stanza
  was omitted. I mention this in gratitude to those happy moments, for,
  in truth, I never wrote anything with so much glee.--I. F.]

One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."--Ed.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE POEM

  'Tis eight o'clock,--a clear March night,
  The moon is up,--the sky is blue,
  The owlet, in the moonlight air,
  Shouts from [1] nobody knows where;
  He lengthens out his lonely shout,                              5
  Halloo! halloo! a long halloo!

 --Why bustle thus about your door,
  What means this bustle, Betty Foy?
  Why are you in this mighty fret?
  And why on horseback have you set                              10
  Him whom you love, your Idiot Boy?
  [2]

  Scarcely a soul is out of bed: [3]
  Good Betty, put him down again;
  His lips with joy they burr at you;
  But, Betty! what has he to do                                  15
  With stirrup, saddle, or with rein?
  [4]

  But Betty's bent on her intent;
  For her good neighbour, Susan Gale,
  Old Susan, she who dwells alone,
  Is sick, and makes a piteous moan,                             20
  As if her very life would fail.

  There's not a house within a mile,
  No hand to help them in distress;
  Old Susan lies a-bed in pain,
  And sorely puzzled are the twain,                              25
  For what she ails they cannot guess.

  And Betty's husband's at the wood,
  Where by the week he doth abide,
  A woodman in the distant vale;
  There's none to help poor Susan Gale;                          30
  What must be done? what will betide?

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 (of 8)

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 (of 8)

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