The following lines were written by Wordsworth in 1826. He never published them. They were the result of a slight disagreement between the Wordsworth family and the Le Flemings, which led the former to fear that they might have to “quit Rydal Mount as a residence.” It was an insignificant difference, and the Wordsworths did not leave their home. The only thing worthy of record, in connection with the matter, is that the fear of being dispossessed led the poet to write what follows.--ED. The doubt to which a wavering hope had clung Is fled; we must depart, willing or not; Sky-piercing Hills! must bid farewell to you And all that ye look down upon with pride, With tenderness, embosom; to your paths, 5 And pleasant dwellings, to familiar trees And wild-flowers known as well as if our hands Had tended them: and O pellucid Spring! Unheard of, save in one small hamlet, here Not undistinguished, for of wells that ooze 10 Or founts that gurgle from yon craggy steep, Their common sire, thou only bear’st his name. Insensibly the foretaste of this parting Hath ruled my steps, and seals me to thy side, Mindful that thou (ah! wherefore by my Muse 15 So long unthanked) hast cheered a simple board With beverage pure as ever fixed the choice Of hermit, dubious where to scoop his cell; Which Persian kings might envy; and thy meek And gentle aspect oft has ministered 20 To finer uses. They for me must cease; Days will pass on, the year, if years be given, Fade,--and the moralising mind derive No lessons from the presence of a Power By the inconstant nature we inherit 25 Unmatched in delicate beneficence; For neither unremitting rains avail To swell thee into voice; nor longest drought Thy bounty stints, nor can thy beauty mar, Beauty not therefore wanting change to stir 30 The fancy pleased by spectacles unlooked for. Nor yet, perchance, translucent Spring, had tolled The Norman curfew bell when human hands First offered help that the deficient rock Might overarch thee, from pernicious heat 35 Defended, and appropriate to man’s need. Such ties will not be severed: but, when we Are gone, what summer loiterer will regard, Inquisitive, thy countenance, will peruse, Pleased to detect the dimpling stir of life, 40 The breathing faculty with which thou yield’st (Tho’ a mere goblet to the careless eye) Boons inexhaustible? Who, hurrying on With a step quickened by November’s cold, Shall pause, the skill admiring that can work 45 Upon thy chance-defilements--withered twigs That, lodged within thy crystal depths, seem bright,