Lur’d by a little winding path, I quitted soon the public road, A smooth and tempting path it was 55 By sheep and shepherds trod. Eastward, toward the mighty hills This pathway led me on, Until I reach’d a lofty Rock With velvet moss o’ergrown. 60 With russet Oak and tufts of Fern Its top was richly garlanded; Its sides adorn’d with Eglantine Bedropp’d with hips of glossy red. There too in many a shelter’d chink 65 The foxglove’s broad leaves flourish’d fair, And silver birch whose purple twigs Bend to the softest breathing air. Beneath that rock my course I stay’d And, looking to its summit high, 70 “Thou wear’st,” said I, “a splendid garb, Here winter keeps his revelry. “I’ve been a dweller on the plains, Have sigh’d when summer days were gone; No more I’ll sigh; for winter here 75 Hath gladsome gardens of his own. “What need of flowers? The splendid moss Is gayer than an April mead; More rich its hues of various green, Orange and gold and glowing red.” 80 ----Beside that gay and lovely rock There came with merry voice A foaming streamlet glancing by, It seem’d to say “Rejoice!” My youthful wishes all fulfill’d, 85 Wishes matured by thoughtful choice, I stood an Inmate of this vale, How could I but rejoice? “AH! IF I WERE A LADY GAY” The following two stanzas were added by Wordsworth to his sister’s poem, entitled _The Cottager to her Infant_--composed in 1805, and issued in 1815 (see vol. iii. pp. 74, 75); but they were never published in Wordsworth’s lifetime.--ED. Ah! if I were a lady gay I should not grieve with thee to play; Right gladly would I lie awake Thy lively spirits to partake, And ask no better cheer. 5 But, Babe! there’s none to work for me, And I must rise to industry; Soon as the cock begins to crow Thy mother to the fold must go To tend the sheep and kine. 10 1806 TO THE EVENING STAR OVER GRASMERE WATER, JULY 1806 The Lake is thine, The mountains too are thine, some clouds there are, Some little feeble stars, but all is thine, Thou, thou art king, and sole proprietor. A moon among her stars, a mighty vale, 5 Fresh as the freshest field, scoop’d out, and green As is the greenest billow of the sea.