WORDSWORTH'S POETICAL WORKS. Poems referring to the Period of Childhood. My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man ; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. TO A BUTTERFLY. STAY near me-do not take thy flight! Much converse do I find in thee, Historian of my infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart ! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art! A solemn image to my heart, My father's family! Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days, The time, when in our childish plays, My sister Emmeline and I Together chased the butterfly! A very hunter did I rush Upon the prey-with leaps and springs I follow'd on from brake to bush; But she, God love her! fear'd to brush FORESIGHT, OR THE CHARGE OF A CHILD TO HIS YOUNGER COMPANION. THAT is work of waste and ruin Do as Charles and I are doing! We must spare them-here are many : B Look at it-the flower is small, Pull the primrose, sister Anne! -Here are daisies, take your fill! Make your bed, and make your bower; Primroses, the Spring may love them-- Wither'd on the ground must lie; Lurking berries, ripe and red, Each within its leafy bower; And for that promise spare the flower! CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD THREE YEARS OLD. LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild; Mock-chastisement and partnership in play. Not less if unattended and alone, Than when both young and old sit gather'd round And take delight in its activity, Even so this happy creature of herself Is all-sufficient solitude to her Is blithe society, who fills the air With gladness and involuntary songs. Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's Forth-startled from the fern where she lay couch'd; Unthought-of, unexpected as the stir Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow flowers; The many-colour'd images impress'd Upon the bosom of a placid lake. ADDRESS TÓ A CHILD, DURING A BOISTEROUS WINTER EVENING. BY A FEMALE FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR. WHAT way does the wind come? What way does he go? He rides over the water, and over the snow, Through wood, and through vale; and o'er rocky height As, if you look up, you plainly may see; He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook, And rings a sharp larum ;-but if you should look, -Yet seek him-and what shall you find in the place? Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves, That he's left for a bed for beggars or thieves! As soon as 'tis daylight, to-morrow, with me You shall go to the orchard, and then you will see All last summer, as well you know, Hark! over the roof he makes a pause, -But let him range round; he does us no harm, Untouch'd by his breath see the candle shines bright, Books have we to read,-hush! that half-stifled knell, -Come, now we'll to bed! and when we are there |