"I roved o'er many a hill and many a dale, With my accustomed load; in heat and cold, Through many a wood and many an open ground, In sunshine and in shade, in wet and fair, 700 Drooping or blithe of heart, as might befal; My best companions now the driving winds, And now the 'trotting brooks'[BB] and whispering trees, And now the music of my own sad steps, With many a short-lived thought that passed between, And disappeared. "I journeyed back this way, 706 When, in the warmth of midsummer, the wheat[79] Was yellow; and the soft and bladed grass,[BC] Springing afresh, had o'er the hay-field spread Its tender verdure. At the door arrived, 710 I found that she was absent. In the shade, Where now we sit, I waited her return. Her cottage, then a cheerful object, wore Its customary look,--only, it seemed,[80] The honeysuckle, crowding round the porch, 715 Hung down in heavier tufts; and that bright weed, The yellow stone-crop,[BD] suffered to take root Along the window's edge, profusely grew Blinding the lower panes. I turned aside, And strolled into her garden. It appeared 720 To lag behind the season, and had lost Its pride of neatness. Daisy-flowers and thrift[BE] Had broken their trim border-lines, and straggled O'er paths they used to deck:[81] carnations, once Prized for surpassing beauty, and no less 725 For the peculiar pains they had required, Declined their languid heads, wanting support.[82] The cumbrous bind-weed,[BF] with its wreaths and bells, Had twined about her two small rows of peas, 729 And dragged them to the earth. "Ere this an hour Was wasted.--Back I turned my restless steps; [83]A stranger passed; and, guessing whom I sought, He said that she was used to ramble far.-- The sun was sinking in the west; and now I sate with sad impatience. From within 735 Her solitary infant cried aloud; Then, like a blast that dies away self-stilled, The voice was silent. From the bench I rose; But neither could divert nor soothe my thoughts. The spot, though fair, was very desolate-- 740 The longer I remained, more desolate: And, looking round me, now I first observed The corner stones, on either side the porch,[84] With dull red stains discoloured, and stuck o'er With tufts and hairs of wool, as if the sheep, 745 That fed upon the Common, thither came Familiarly, and found a couching-place Even at her threshold. Deeper shadows fell From these tall elms; the cottage-clock struck eight;-- I turned, and saw her distant a few steps. 750 Her face was pale and thin--her figure, too,