The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 5 (of 8)Wordsworth, William
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The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 5 (of 8)
Wordsworth, William
English poetry -- 18th century; English poetry -- 19th century
Of brotherhood is broken: time has been
When, every day, the touch of human hand
Dislodged the natural sleep that binds them up
In mortal stillness; and they ministered 490
To human comfort. Stooping down[62] to drink,
Upon the slimy foot-stone I espied
The useless fragment of a wooden bowl,
Green with the moss of years, and subject only
To the soft handling of the elements: 495
There let it lie--how foolish are such thoughts!
Forgive them;--never--never did my steps
Approach this door but she who dwelt within[63]
A daughter's welcome gave me, and I loved her
As my own child. Oh, Sir! the good die first,[AV] 500
And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the socket. Many a passenger
Hath blessed poor Margaret for her gentle looks,
When she upheld the cool refreshment drawn
From that forsaken spring; and no one came 505
But he was welcome; no one went away
But that it seemed she loved him. She is dead,
The light extinguished of her lonely hut,
The hut itself abandoned to decay,
And she forgotten in the quiet grave. 510
"I speak," continued he, "of One whose stock
Of virtues bloomed beneath this lowly roof.
She was a Woman of a steady mind,
Tender and deep in her excess of love;
Not speaking much, pleased rather with the joy 515
Of her own thoughts: by some especial care
Her temper had been framed, as if to make
A Being, who by adding love to peace
Might live on earth a life of happiness.
Her wedded Partner lacked not on his side 520
The humble worth that satisfied her heart:
Frugal, affectionate, sober, and withal
Keenly industrious. She with pride would tell
That he was often seated at his loom,[AW]
In summer, ere the mower was abroad 525
Among the dewy grass,--in early spring,
Ere the last star had vanished.--They who passed
At evening, from behind the garden fence
Might hear his busy spade, which he would ply,
After his daily work, until the light 530
Had failed, and every leaf and flower were lost
In the dark hedges. So their days were spent
In peace and comfort; and a pretty boy
Was their best hope, next to the God in heaven.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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