[376] See the _Memorials of Coleorton_, vol. i. p. 81; and Wordsworth’s letter on the subject in a later volume of this edition.--ED. 1805 “PEACEFUL OUR VALLEY, FAIR AND GREEN” This is extracted from a copy of an appendix to _Recollections of a Tour in Scotland_ by Dorothy Wordsworth, written by Mrs. Clarkson, September-November 1805. It was composed by the poet’s sister. In February 1892 it was published in _The Monthly Packet_ under the title “Grasmere: a Fragment,” and with the signature “Rydal Mount, September 26, 1829.” It is now printed from the MS. of 1805.--ED. Peaceful our valley, fair and green; And beautiful the cottages Each in its nook, its sheltered hold, Or underneath its tuft of trees. Many and beautiful they are; 5 But there is one that I love best, A lowly roof in truth it is, A brother of the rest. Yet when I sit on rock or hill Down-looking on the valley fair, 10 That cottage with its grove of trees Summons my heart; it settles there. Others there are whose small domain Of fertile fields with hedgerows green Might more seduce the traveller’s mind 15 To wish that there his home had been. Such wish be his! I blame him not, My fancies they, perchance, are wild; I love that house because it is The very mountain’s child. 20 Fields hath it of its own, green fields; But they are craggy, steep, and bare; Their fence is of the mountain stone, And moss and lichen flourish there. And when the storm comes from the North 25 It lingers near that pastoral spot, And piping through the mossy walls, It seems delighted with its lot. And let it take its own delight, And let it range the pastures bare 30 Until it reach that grove of trees ----It may not enter there! A green unfading grove it is, Skirted with many a lesser tree, Hazel and holly, beech and oak, 35 A fair and flourishing company! Precious the shelter of those trees! They screen the cottage that I love; The sunshine pierces to the roof And the tall pine trees tower above. 40 When first I saw that dear abode It was a lovely winter’s day: After a night of perilous storm The West wind ruled with gentle sway; A day so mild, it might have been 45 The first day of the gladsome spring; The robins warbled; and I heard One solitary throstle sing: A stranger in the neighbourhood, All faces then to me unknown, 50 I left my sole companion-friend To wander out alone.