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Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell !
For two months now in vain we shall be sought ;
We leave you here in solitude to dwell
With these our latest gifts of tender thought ;

STANZAS
Thou, like the morning, in thy saffron coat,

WRITTEN IN MY POCKET-COPY OF THOMSON'S CASTLE OF

INDOLENCE,
Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell !
Whom from the borders of the Lake we brought, WITHIN our happy Castle there dwelt One
And placed together near our rocky Well. Whom without blame I may not overlook;

For never sun on living creature shone
We go for One to whom ye will be dear ;

Who more devout enjoyment with us took : And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed, Here on his hours he hung as on a book, Our own contrivance, Building without peer ! On his own time here would he float away, --A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred, As doth a fly upon a summer brook ; Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered, But go to-morrow, or belike to-day, With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer, Seek for him,--he is filed ; and whither none can Will come to you ; to you herself will wed;

say. And love the blessed life that we lead here.

Thus often would he leave our peaceful home, Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed, | And find elsewhere his business or delight; Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blown Out of our Valley's limits did he roam : Among the distant mountains, flower and weed, Full many a time, upon a stormy night, Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own, His voice came to us from the neighbouring height: Making all kindness registered and known; Oft could we see him driving full in view Thou for our sakes, though Nature's child indeed, | At mid-day when the sun was shining bright; Fair in thyself and beautiful alone,

What ill was on him, what he had to do, Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need. A mighty wonder bred among our quiet crew.

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My calmest faith escapes not pain ;
And, feeling that the hope is vain,
I think that he will come again.

For thus to see thee nodding in the air,
To see thy arch thus stretch and bend,
Thus rise and thus descend,-
Disturbs me till the sight is more than I can bear.”

The Man who makes this feverish complaint

Is one of giant stature, who could dance
XIII.

Equipped from head to foot in iron mail.

Ah gentle Love! if ever thought was thine Tis said, that some have died for love :

To store up kindred hours for me, thy face And here and there a church-yard grave is found Turn

Turn from me, gentle Love ! nor let me walk In the cold north's unhallowed ground,

| Within the sound of Emma's voice, nor know Because the wretched man himself had slain,

Such happiness as I have known to-day.
His love was such a grievous pain.
And there is one whom I five years have known ;
He dwells alone
Upon Helvellyn's side :
He loved the pretty Barbara died ;
And thus he makes his moan :

XIV.
Three years had Barbara in her grave been laid
When thus his moan he made :

A COMPLAINT.

1800.

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