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By Persons resident in the country and attached to rural objects, many places will be found unnamed or of unknown names, where little Incidents will have occurred, or feelings been experienced, which will have given to such places a private and peculiar interest. From a wish to give some sort of record to such Incidents, or renew the gratification of such Feelings, Names have been given to Places by the Author and some of his Friends, and the following Poems written in consequence.




It was an April morning: fresh and clear

The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,

Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice

Of waters which the winter had supplied

Was softened down into a vernal tone.

The spirit of enjoyment and desire,

And hopes and wishes, from all living things

Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.

The budding groves appeared as if in haste

To spur the steps of June; as if their shades

Of various green were hindrances that stood

Between them and their object: yet, meanwhile,

There was such deep contentment in the air

That every naked ash, and tardy tree

Yet leafless, seemed as though the countenance

With which it looked on this delightful day

Were native to the summer.—Up the brook

I roamed in the confusion of my heart,

Alive to all things and forgetting all.

At length I to a sudden turning came

In this continuous glen, where down a rock

The stream, so ardent in its course before,

Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all

Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice

Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the Lamb,

The Shepherd's Dog, the Linnet and the Thrush

Vied with this Waterfall, and made a song

Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth

Or like some natural produce of the air,

That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here;

But 'twas the foliage of the rocks, the birch,

The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,

With hanging islands of resplendent furze:

And on a summit, distant a short space,

By any who should look beyond the dell,

A single mountain Cottage might be seen.

I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said,

"Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook,

My Emma, I will dedicate to thee."

Soon did the spot become my other home,

My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there,
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps,
Years after we are gone and in our graves,
When they have cause to speak of this wild place,
May call it by the name of Emma's Dell.

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Amid the smoke of cities did you pass

Your time of early youth; and there you learned

From years of quiet industry, to love

The living Beings by your own fire-side,

With such a strong devotion, that your heart

Is slow towards the sympathies of them

Who look upon the hills with tenderness,

And make dear friendships with the streams and groves.

Yet we, who are transgressors in this kind,

Dwelling retired in our simplicity

Among the woods and fields, we love you well,

Joanna! and I guess, since you have been

So distant from us now for two long years,

That you will gladly listen to discourse

However trivial, if you thence are taught

That they, with whom you once were happy, talk

Familiarly of you and of old times.

While I was seated, now some ten days past, Beneath those lofty firs, that overtop'

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