“SWEET WAS THE WALK ALONG THE NARROW LANE” This sonnet is found in one of Dorothy Wordsworth’s letters to her friend Miss Jane Polland, written from Forncett Rectory, on 6th May 1792. She wrote:-- “I promised to transcribe some of William’s compositions. As I made the promise I will give you a little sonnet, but all the same I charge you, as you value our friendship, not to read it, or to show it to any one--to your sister, or any other person.… I take the first that offers. It is only valuable to me because the lane which gave birth to it was the favourite evening walk of my dear William and me.” … “I have not chosen this sonnet because of any particular beauty it has; it was the first I laid my hands upon.”--ED. Sweet was the walk along the narrow lane At noon, the bank and hedgerows all the way Shagged with wild pale green tufts of fragrant hay, Caught by the hawthorns from the loaded wain Which Age, with many a slow stoop, strove to gain; 5 And Childhood seeming still more busy, took His little rake with cunning sidelong look, Sauntering to pluck the strawberries wild unseen. _Now_ too, on melancholy’s idle dream Musing, the lone spot with my soul agrees 10 Quiet and dark; for through the thick-wove trees Scarce peeps the curious star till solemn gleams The clouded moon, and calls me forth to stray Through tall green silent woods and ruins grey. “WHEN LOVE WAS BORN OF HEAVENLY LINE” Composed 1795 (or earlier).--Published 1795 Translated from some French stanzas by Francis Wrangham, and Printed in _Poems by Francis Wrangham_, M.A., Member of Trinity College, Cambridge, London (1795), Sold by J. Mawman, 22 Poultry, pp. 106-111. In the edition of 1795, the original French lines are printed side by side with Wordsworth’s translation, which closes the volume.--ED. When Love was born of heavenly line, What dire intrigues disturb’d Cythera’s joy! Till Venus cried, “A mother’s heart is mine; None but myself shall nurse my boy.” But, infant as he was, the child 5 In that divine embrace enchanted lay; And, by the beauty of the vase beguiled, Forgot the beverage--and pined away. “And must my offspring languish in my sight?” (Alive to all a mother’s pain, 10 The Queen of Beauty thus her court address’d) “No: Let the most discreet of all my train Receive him to her breast: Think all, he is the God of young delight.”