from the _Ode, the morning of the Day appointed for a General Thanksgiving, January 18, 1816_, he gave to the former the date 1815; and it is possible that it was composed towards the close of that year. But it was originally published in 1816 as part of the _Thanksgiving Ode_; and, although (in conformity with the plan of adopting the Author's latest view of his own text) it is printed by itself,--as finally approved by him,--it is not placed in the year 1815, but in 1816. The chief reason for this is, that it is kindred in theme, structure, and tendency with the other Odes belonging to that year; and it seems better--when there is a doubt as to the date--to bring together those poems that are kindred in character. It does not follow, however, that part of the _Thanksgiving Ode_ itself may not have been written in 1815. Wordsworth, writing to Southey in 1816, said:--"It is a poem composed, _or supposed to be composed_, on the morning of the thanksgiving." Those belonging to the year 1815 are, therefore, few in number.--ED. DEDICATION TO THE WHITE DOE OF RYLSTONE In trellised shed, with clustering roses gay, etc. Although this _Dedication_ was only written in April 1815, it has, for obvious reasons, been already published--along with the poem itself--in its chronological place (1807) (see vol. iv. p. 100); but as I have seen a MS. copy of this _Dedication_, which differs considerably from the final text, and was probably the first draft of the poem, it may be printed here. In the MS. I refer to, it is called _Epistle Dedicatory_.--ED. EPISTLE DEDICATORY When years of wedded life were as a day Whose current answers to the heart's desire, Oft in some bowers, with clustering roses gay, Or haply by the blazing winter fire, Did we together read in Spenser's Lay 5 How Una, sad of soul, in sad attire, The gentle Una, born of heavenly birth, To seek her knight went wandering o'er the earth. Ah, then, Belovèd, pleasing was the smart, And the tear precious in compassion shed 10 For Her, who, pierced by sorrow's thrilling dart, Did meekly bear the pang unmerited; Meek as that Emblem of her lowly heart The milk-white Lamb, which in a line she led, And faithful, loyal in her innocence, 15 Like the brave Lion slain in her defence. Notes could we hear as of a faery shell Attuned to words with sacred wisdom fraught; Free fancy prized each specious miracle, And all its finer inspiration caught 20 Mid the green bower, and in our rustic Cell; Till we by lamentable change were taught That bliss with mortal man may not abide, How nearly joy and sorrow are allied![S]