In that delicious hour of balm, Stillness, solitude, and calm, 825 While yet the valley is arrayed, On this side with a sober shade; On that is prodigally bright-- Crag, lawn, and wood--with rosy light. --But most of all, thou lordly Wain! 830 I wish to have thee here again, When windows flap and chimney roars, And all is dismal out of doors; And, sitting by my fire, I see Eight sorry carts, no less a train! 835 Unworthy successors of thee, Come straggling through the wind and rain: And oft, as they pass slowly on, Beneath my windows, [69] one by one, See, perched upon the naked height 840 The summit of a cumbrous freight, A single traveller--and there Another; then perhaps a pair-- The lame, the sickly, and the old; Men, women, heartless with the cold; 845 And babes in wet and starveling plight; Which once, [70] be weather as it might, Had still a nest within a nest, Thy shelter--and their mother's breast! Then most of all, then far the most, 850 Do I regret what we have lost; Am grieved for that unhappy sin Which robbed us of good Benjamin;-- And of his stately Charge, which none Could keep alive when He was gone! 855 * * * * * VARIANTS ON THE TEXT [Variant 1: 1819. The Night-hawk is singing his frog-like tune, Twirling his watchman's rattle about--1805. MS. [a] The dor-hawk, solitary bird, Round the dim crags on heavy pinions wheeling, Buzzes incessantly, a tiresome tune; That constant voice is all that can be heard 1820. ... on heavy pinions wheeling, With untired voice sings an unvaried tune; Those burring notes are all that can be heard 1836. The text of 1845 returns to the first version of 1819.] [Variant 2: 1819. Now that the children are abed The little glow-worms nothing dread, Such prize as their bright lamps would be. Sooth they come in company, And shine in quietness secure, On the mossy bank by the cottage door, As safe as on the loneliest moor. In the play, or on the hill, Everything is hushed and still; The clouds show here and there a spot Of a star that twinkles not, The air as in ... From a MS. copy of the poem in Henry Crabb Robinson's 'Diary, etc'. 1812. Now that the children's busiest schemes Do all lie buried in blank sleep, Or only live in stirring dreams, The glow-worms fearless watch may keep; Rich prize as their bright lamps would be, They shine, a quiet company, On mossy bank by cottage-door, As safe as on the loneliest moor. In hazy straits the clouds between, And in their stations twinkling not, Some thinly-sprinkled stars are seen, Each changed into a pallid spot. 1836. The text of 1845 returns to that of 1819.]