Thy help is with the weed that creeps Along the humblest ground; No cliff so bare but on its steeps Thy favours may be found; But most on some peculiar nook 45 That our own hands have drest, Thou and thy train are proud to look, And seem to love it best. And yet how pleased we wander forth When May is whispering, "Come! 50 "Choose from the bowers of virgin earth "The happiest for your home; "Heaven's bounteous love through me is spread "From sunshine, clouds, winds, waves, "Drops on the mouldering turret's head, 55 "And on your turf-clad graves!" Such greeting heard, away with sighs For lilies that must fade, Or "the rathe primrose as it dies Forsaken"[426] in the shade! 60 Vernal fruitions and desires Are linked in endless chase; While, as one kindly growth retires, Another takes its place. And what if thou, sweet May, hast known 65 Mishap by worm and blight; If expectations newly blown Have perished in thy sight; If loves and joys, while up they sprung, Were caught as in a snare; 70 Such is the lot of all the young, However bright and fair. Lo! Streams that April could not check Are patient of thy rule; Gurgling in foamy water-break, 75 Loitering in glassy pool: By thee, thee only, could be sent Such gentle mists as glide, Curling with unconfirmed intent, On that green mountain's side. 80 How delicate the leafy veil Through which yon house of God Gleams 'mid the peace of this deep dale[427] By few but shepherds trod! And lowly huts, near beaten ways, 85 No sooner stand attired In thy fresh wreaths, than they for praise Peep forth, and are admired. Season of fancy and of hope, Permit not for one hour, 90 A blossom from thy crown to drop, Nor add to it a flower! Keep, lovely May, as if by touch Of self-restraining art, This modest charm of not too much, 95 Part seen, imagined part! FOOTNOTES: [425] Some of the stanzas of this poem were composed in Nov. 1830, on the way from Rydal to Cambridge. See Wordsworth's letter to W. R. Hamilton, Nov. 26, 1830.--ED. [426] Compare _Lycidas_, l. 142.--ED. [427] Newlands. See the Fenwick note, p. 146.--ED. "ONCE I COULD HAIL (HOWE'ER SERENE THE SKY)" Composed 1826.--Published 1827 "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone Wi' the auld moone in hir arme." _Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence_, _Percy's Reliques_.--W. W.