THE HAMLET. THE hinds how blest, who ne'er beguiled When morning's twilight-tinctured beam 'Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear, In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, For them the moon with cloudless ray The meadows incense breathe at eve. That o'er a glimmering hearth they share : But when the curfew's measured roar Their little sons, who spread the bloom Their humble porch with honey'd flowers WARTON. A NARROW girdle of rough stones and crags, Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore And there myself and two beloved Friends, Ill suits the road with one in haste, but we Played with our time; and, as we strolled along, It was our occupation to observe Such objects as the waves had tossed ashore- That skimmed the surface of the dead calm lake, Suddenly halting now-a lifeless stand! And starting off again with freak as sudden; In all its sportive wanderings, all the while, Making report of an invisible breeze That was its wings, its chariot, and its horse, WORDSWORTH. |