Mark the concentred hazels that enclose Yon old grey Stone, protected from the ray Of noontide suns:--and even the beams that play And glance, while wantonly the rough wind blows, Are seldom free to touch the moss that grows 5 Upon that roof, amid embowering gloom, The very image framing of a Tomb, In which some ancient Chieftain finds repose Among the lonely mountains.--Live, ye trees! And thou, grey Stone, the pensive likeness keep 10 Of a dark chamber where the Mighty sleep: For more than Fancy to the influence bends When solitary Nature condescends To mimic Time's forlorn humanities. This "old grey Stone" is a prominent feature in the Lancrigg Terrace-Walk. It is still moss-grown, and embowered by the hazel underwood. Not far from it, the path opens to the spot where the most of _The Prelude_ was composed; first hummed aloud--as the poet walked to and fro along the terrace--and then dictated to his wife or sister. See Lady Richardson's account of this, in her article in _Sharpe's London Magazine_, in 1851, and in the _Autobiography of Mrs. Fletcher_ (her mother), p. 244; also her contributions to the _Memoirs of Wordsworth_, vol. ii. p. 438, etc.--ED. "SURPRISED BY JOY--IMPATIENT AS THE WIND" Published 1815 [This was in fact suggested by my daughter Catherine long after her death.[AN]--I. F.] One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED. Surprised by joy--impatient as the Wind I turned[78] to share the transport--Oh! with whom But Thee, deep buried [79] in the silent tomb, That spot which no vicissitude can find? Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind-- 5 But how could I forget thee? Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss?--That thought's return Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, 10 Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; That neither present time, nor years unborn Could to my sight that heavenly face restore. Compare the poem entitled _Characteristics of a Child three years old_ (vol. iv. p. 252), written in 1811, and which referred, like this one, to the poet's daughter Catherine, who died the year after. Compare also _The Excursion_, book iii. ll. 636-649, and the sonnet beginning, "Desponding Father! mark this altered bough," 1835.--ED. VARIANTS: [Footnote 78: 1820. I wished ... 1815. ] [Footnote 79: 1820. ... long buried ... 1815. ] FOOTNOTES: [Footnote AN: Wordsworth's daughter, Catherine, was born on the 6th September 1808, and died 4th June 1812.--ED.] 1816