Wordsworth Tintern Abbey Abridged

5/19/2018 Wordsworth Tintern Abbey Abridged

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WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

LINESCOMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN

ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE

DURING A TOUR. JULY 13, 1798FI VE year s have past ; f i ve summer s, wi t h the l engt hOf f i ve l ong wi nt er s! and agai n I hearThese wat er s, r ol l i ng f r om t hei r mount ai n- spr i ngsWi t h a sof t i nl and murmur. - - Once agai nDo I behol d t hese st eep and l of t y cl i f f s,That on a wi l d secl uded scene i mpressThoughts of mor e deep secl usi on; and connectThe l andscape wi t h t he qui et of t he sky.The day i s come when I agai n r eposeHere, under t hi s dar k sycamore, and vi ew

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These pl ot s of cot t age- ground, t hese or char d- t uf t s,Whi ch at t hi s season, wi t h t hei r unr i pe f r ui t s,Ar e cl ad i n one gr een hue, and l ose themsel ves' Mi d gr oves and copses. Once agai n I seeThese hedge- r ows, hardl y hedge- r ows, l i t t l e l i nesOf spor t i ve wood run wi l d: t hese past or al f ar ms,Gr een t o t he very door ; and wr eat hs of smokeSent up, i n si l ence, f r om among t he t r ees!Wi t h some uncert ai n not i ce, as mi ght seem

Of vagr ant dwel l er s i n t he housel ess woods,20

Or of some Her mi t ' s cave, wher e by hi s f i r eThe Her mi t si t s al one.

These beaut eous f or ms,Through a l ong absence, have not been t o meAs i s a l andscape to a bl i nd man' s eye:But of t , i n l onel y rooms, and ' mi d t he di nOf t owns and ci t i es, I have owed t o t hem

I n hour s of wear i ness, sensat i ons sweet ,Fel t i n t he bl ood, and f el t al ong t he hear t ;And passi ng even i nto my pur er mi nd,Wi t h t r anqui l r estorat i on: - - f eel i ngs t oo

30Of unr emember ed pl easur e: such, per haps,As have no sl i ght or t r i vi al i nf l uenceOn t hat best por t i on of a good man' s l i f e,Hi s l i t t l e, namel ess, unr emember ed, act sOf ki ndness and of l ove. Nor l ess, I t r ust ,To t hem I may have owed anot her gi f t ,Of aspect more subl i me; t hat bl essed mood,I n whi ch the bur t hen of t he myst ery,I n whi ch t he heavy and t he wear y wei ghtOf al l thi s uni ntel l i gi bl e wor l d,

40I s l i ght ened: - - t hat ser ene and bl essed mood,I n whi ch t he af f ect i ons gent l y l ead us on, - -Unt i l , t he br eat h of t hi s cor por eal f r ameAnd even the mot i on of our human bl oodAl most suspended, we ar e l ai d asl eepI n body, and become a l i vi ng soul :Whi l e wi t h an eye made qui et by t he powerOf har mony, and the deep power of j oy,We see i nt o t he l i f e of t hi ngs.


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I f t hi sBe but a vai n bel i ef , yet , oh! how of t - -

50I n dar kness and ami d t he many shapesOf j oyl ess dayl i ght ; when t he f r et f ul st i rUnpr of i t abl e, and t he f ever of t he wor l d,

Have hung upon t he beat i ngs of my hear t - -How of t , i n spi r i t , have I t ur ned t o t hee,O syl van Wye! t hou wander er t hro' t he woods,How of t en has my spi r i t t ur ned to t hee!

And now, wi t h gl eams of hal f - ext i ngui shed t hought ,Wi t h many recogni t i ons di m and f ai nt ,And somewhat of a sad per pl exi t y,

60The pi ct ure of t he mi nd r evi ves agai n:Whi l e her e I st and, not onl y wi t h t he senseOf pr esent pl easur e, but wi t h pl easi ng thought sThat i n t hi s moment t here i s l i f e and f oodFor f ut ur e year s. And so I dar e t o hope,

Though changed, no doubt , f r om what I was when f i r stI came among t hese hi l l s; when l i ke a roeI bounded o' er t he mount ai ns, by t he si desOf t he deep ri ver s, and the l onel y st r eams,Wher ever nat ure l ed: more l i ke a man

70Fl yi ng f r om somethi ng t hat he dr eads, t han oneWho sought t he t hi ng he l oved. For nature t hen( The coar ser pl easures of my boyi sh days,And t hei r gl ad ani mal movement s al l gone by)To me was al l i n al l . - - I cannot pai ntWhat t hen I was. The soundi ng cataractHaunt ed me l i ke a passi on: t he t al l r ock,The mount ai n, and t he deep and gl oomy wood,Thei r col ours and t hei r f or ms, wer e t hen t o meAn appet i t e; a f eel i ng and a l ove,

80That had no need of a r emot er char m,By thought suppl i ed, nor any i nt er estUnbor r owed f r om t he eye. - - That t i me i s past ,And al l i t s achi ng j oys ar e now no more,And al l i t s di zzy r apt ur es. Not f or t hi sFai nt I , nor mour n nor mur mur , ot her gi f t sHave f ol l owed; f or such l oss, I woul d bel i eve,Abundant r ecompence. For I have l ear nedTo l ook on nature, not as i n t he hourOf t hought l ess yout h; but hear i ng of t ent i mes

90The st i l l , sad musi c of humani t y,Nor har sh nor gr at i ng, t hough of ampl e powerTo chast en and subdue. And I have f el tA presence t hat di st ur bs me wi t h t he j oyOf el evated t houghts; a sense subl i meOf somethi ng f ar mor e deepl y i nt erf used,Whose dwel l i ng i s t he l i ght of set t i ng suns,And t he r ound ocean and t he l i vi ng ai r ,And t he bl ue sky, and i n the mi nd of man;A mot i on and a spi r i t , t hat i mpel s

100Al l t hi nki ng t hi ngs, al l obj ect s of al l t hought ,And r ol l s thr ough al l t hi ngs. Ther ef or e am I sti l lA l over of t he meadows and t he woods,And mount ai ns; and of al l t hat we behol dFrom t hi s gr een ear t h; of al l t he mi ght y wor l d


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Of eye, and ear , - - bot h what t hey hal f creat e,And what percei ve; wel l pl eased t o recogni seI n nature and t he l anguage of t he sense,The anchor of my purest t hought s, t he nurse,The gui de, t he guar di an of my heart , and soul

110

Of al l my mor al bei ng. Nor perchance,I f I wer e not t hus t aught , shoul d I t he mor eSuf f er my geni al spi r i t s t o decay:For t hou ar t wi t h me here upon the banksOf t hi s f ai r r i ver ; t hou my dear est Fri end,My dear , dear Fr i end; and i n t hy voi ce I cat chThe l anguage of my f or mer hear t , and r eadMy f or mer pl easur es i n the shoot i ng l i ght sOf t hy wi l d eyes. Oh! yet a l i t t l e whi l eMay I behol d i n thee what I was once,

120My dear , dear Si st er ! and t hi s pr ayer I make,

Knowi ng that Natur e never di d bet r ayThe heart t hat l oved her ; ' t i s her pr i vi l ege,Through al l t he years of t hi s our l i f e, t o l eadFrom j oy t o j oy: f or she can so i nf or m

The mi nd t hat i s wi t hi n us, so i mpr essWi t h qui etness and beaut y, and so f eedWi t h l of t y t hought s, t hat nei t her evi l t ongues,Rash j udgment s, nor t he sneers of sel f i sh men,Nor gr eet i ngs wher e no ki ndness i s, nor al l

130The dreary i nt er cour se of dai l y l i f e,Shal l e' er pr evai l agai nst us, or di sturbOur cheer f ul f ai t h, t hat al l whi ch we behol dI s f ul l of bl essi ngs. Ther ef or e l et t he moonShi ne on t hee i n t hy sol i t ar y wal k;And l et t he mi st y mountai n- wi nds be f r eeTo bl ow agai nst t hee: and, i n af t er years,When t hese wi l d ecst asi es shal l be maturedI nt o a sober pl easure; when t hy mi ndShal l be a mansi on f or al l l ovel y f or ms,

140Thy memor y be as a dwel l i ng- pl aceFor al l sweet sounds and har moni es; oh! t hen,I f sol i tude, or f ear , or pai n, or gr i ef ,Shoul d be thy port i on, wi t h what heal i ng t hought sOf t ender j oy wi l t t hou remember me,And t hese my exhort at i ons! Nor, per chance- -I f I shoul d be where I no more can hearThy voi ce, nor cat ch f r om t hy wi l d eyes t hese gl eamsOf past exi st ence- - wi l t t hou t hen f or getThat on t he banks of t hi s del i ght f ul st r eam

150We stood t oget her; and t hat I , so l ongA worshi pper of Nature, hi t her cameUnwear i ed i n t hat ser vi ce: r at her sayWi t h warmer l ove- - oh! wi t h f ar deeper zealOf hol i er l ove. Nor wi l t t hou t hen f or get ,That af t er many wander i ngs, many yearsOf absence, t hese st eep woods and l of t y cl i f f s,And thi s green past oral l andscape, were t o meMore dear , both f or t hemsel ves and f or t hy sake!

1798.
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COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPT. 3, 1802

EARTH has not anyt hi ng t o show more f ai r :Dul l woul d he be of soul who coul d pass byA si ght so t ouchi ng i n i t s maj est y:Thi s Ci t y now doth, l i ke a garment , wearThe beaut y of t he mor ni ng; si l ent , bare,Shi ps, t ower s, domes, t heat r es, and templ es l i eOpen unt o t he f i el ds, and t o t he sky;Al l br i ght and gl i t t er i ng i n t he smokel ess ai r .Never di d sun more beaut i f ul l y st eepI n hi s f i rst spl endour , val l ey, r ock, or hi l l ; 10Ne' er saw I , never f el t , a cal m so deep!

The r i ver gl i deth at hi s own sweet wi l l :Dear God! t he ver y houses seem asl eep;And al l t hat mi ght y hear t i s l yi ng sti l l !

LONDON, 1802

MI LTON! t hou shoul d' st be l i vi ng at t hi s hour :Engl and hat h need of t hee: she i s a f enOf st agnant wat er s: al t ar , swor d, and pen,Fi r esi de, t he her oi c weal t h of hal l and bower ,Have f or f ei t ed t hei r anci ent Engl i sh dower

Of i nward happi ness. We ar e sel f i sh men;Oh! r ai se us up, r et ur n t o us agai n;And gi ve us manner s, vi r t ue, f r eedom, power.Thy soul was l i ke a St ar , and dwel t apart :Thou hadst a voi ce whose sound was l i ke t he sea: 10Pur e as t he naked heavens, maj est i c, f r ee,So di dst t hou t r avel on l i f e' s common way,I n cheer f ul godl i ness; and yet t hy hear tThe l owl i est dut i es on hersel f di d l ay.

THE SOLITARY REAPER

BEHOLD her , si ngl e i n t he f i el d,Yon sol i t ar y Hi ghl and Lass!Reapi ng and si ngi ng by her sel f ;St op her e, or gent l y pass!Al one she cut s and bi nds t he gr ai n,And si ngs a mel anchol y st r ai n;O l i st en! f or t he Val e pr of oundI s over f l owi ng wi t h t he sound.

No Ni ght i ngal e di d ever chauntMor e wel come not es t o wear y bands 10Of t r avel l ers i n some shady haunt ,Among Ar abi an sands:A voi ce so thri l l i ng ne' er was hear dI n spr i ng- t i me f r om t he Cuckoo- bi r d,
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Br eaki ng t he si l ence of t he seasAmong t he f art hest Hebr i des.

Wi l l no one t el l me what she si ngs?- -Per haps t he pl ai nt i ve number s f l owFor ol d, unhappy, f ar - of f t hi ngs,

And bat t l es l ong ago: 20Or i s i t some more humbl e l ay,Fami l i ar mat t er of t o- day?Some nat ur al sor r ow, l oss, or pai n,That has been, and may be agai n?

What e' er t he t heme, t he Mai den sangAs i f her song coul d have no endi ng;I saw her si ngi ng at her wor k,And o' er t he si ckl e bendi ng; - -I l i s tened, mot i onl ess and st i l l ;And, as I mounted up t he hi l l 30The musi c i n my hear t I bore,

Long af t er i t was hear d no more.

Extracts from The Prelude

Book First: Introduction--Childhood and School-time

Book Second: School-time (continued)

Book Third: Residence at Cambridge

Book Fourth: Summer Vacation

Book Fifth: Books

Book Sixth: Cambridge and the Alps

Book Seventh: Residence in London

Book Eighth: Retrospect--Love of Nature Leading to Love of Man

INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM

RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD

I

THERE was a t i me when meadow, grove, and st r eam,

The ear t h, and every common si ght ,To me di d seem

Apparel l ed i n cel est i al l i ght ,The gl or y and t he f r eshness of a dream.I t i s not now as i t hat h been of yor e; - -

Turn wheresoe' er I may,By ni ght or day,

The t hi ngs whi ch I have seen I now can see nomore.

I I

The Rai nbow comes and goes,

And l ovel y i s t he Rose,The Moon doth wi t h del i ght

Look round her when the heavens ar e bare,Waters on a st ar r y ni ght
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Ar e beaut i f ul and f ai r ;The sunshi ne i s a gl or i ous bi r t h;But yet I know, wher e' er I go,

That t here hath past away a gl or y f r om t he ear t h.

I I I

Now, whi l e t he bi r ds t hus si ng a j oyous song,And whi l e t he young l ambs bound

As t o the t abor ' s sound,To me al one t here came a t hought of gr i ef :A t i mel y ut t er ance gave t hat t hought r el i ef ,

And I agai n am st r ong:The cat aract s bl ow t hei r t r umpets f r om t he st eep;No more shal l gr i ef of mi ne the season wr ong;I hear t he Echoes t hrough t he mount ai ns t hr ong,The Wi nds come t o me f r om t he f i el ds of sl eep,

And al l t he ear t h i s gay;Land and sea

Gi ve t hemsel ves up t o j ol l i t y,And wi t h t he hear t of MayDot h every Beast keep hol i day; - -

Thou Chi l d of J oy,Shout r ound me, l et me hear t hy shout s, t hou happy

Shepher d- boy!

I V

Ye bl essed Cr eat ures, I have hear d t he cal lYe t o each ot her make; I see

The heavens l augh wi t h you i n your j ubi l ee;My hear t i s at your f est i val ,My head hath i t s coronal ,

The f ul ness of your bl i ss, I f eel - - I f eel i t al l .Oh evi l day! i f I wer e sul l enWhi l e Ear t h her sel f i s ador ni ng,

Thi s sweet May- morni ng,And t he Chi l dr en ar e cul l i ng

On ever y si de,I n a t housand val l eys f ar and wi de,Fresh f l ower s; whi l e the sun shi nes war m,

And the Babe l eaps up on hi s Mother ' s ar m: - -I hear , I hear , wi t h j oy I hear !- - But t her e' s a Tr ee, of many, one,

A si ngl e Fi el d whi ch I have l ooked upon,Bot h of t hem speak of somet hi ng that i s gone:

The Pansy at my f eetDoth the same tal e repeat :

Whi t her i s f l ed t he vi si onar y gl eam?Where i s i t now, t he gl ory and the dr eam?

V

Our bi r t h i s but a sl eep and a f or get t i ng:The Soul t hat r i ses wi t h us, our l i f e' s St ar ,

Hat h had el sewher e i t s sett i ng,And cometh f r omaf ar :

Not i n ent i r e f or get f ul ness,And not i n ut t er nakedness,

But t r ai l i ng cl ouds of gl or y do we comeFr om God, who i s our home:

Heaven l i es about us i n our i nf ancy!Shades of t he pr i son- house begi n to cl ose


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Upon t he growi ng Boy,But He behol ds t he l i ght , and whence i t f l ows,

He sees i t i n hi s j oy;The Youth, who dai l y f ar t her f r om t he east

Must t ravel , s t i l l i s Nat ure' s Pr i est ,And by t he vi si on spl endi d

I s on hi s way at t ended;At l engt h t he Man percei ves i t di e away,And f ade i nt o t he l i ght of common day.

VI

Ear t h f i l l s her l ap wi t h pl easur es of her own;Yearni ngs she hath i n her own natural ki nd,And, even wi t h somethi ng of a Mother ' s mi nd,

And no unwor t hy ai m,The homel y Nurse doth al l she can

To make her Fost er - chi l d, her I nmat e Man,For get t he gl ori es he hat h known,

And t hat i mper i al pal ace whence he came.

VI I

Behol d t he Chi l d among hi s new- born bl i sses,A si x year s' Dar l i ng of a pi gmy si ze!See, wher e ' mi d work of hi s own hand he l i es,Fret t ed by sal l i es of hi s mot her ' s ki sses,Wi t h l i ght upon hi m f r om hi s f at her ' s eyes!See, at hi s f eet , some l i t t l e pl an or char t ,Some f r agment f r om hi s dreamof human l i f e,Shaped by hi msel f wi t h newl y- l ear ned ar t ;

A weddi ng or a f est i val ,A mour ni ng or a f uneral ;

And t hi s hat h now hi s heart ,And unto thi s he f r ames hi s song:

Then wi l l he f i t hi s t ongueTo di al ogues of busi ness, l ove, or st r i f e;

But i t wi l l not be l ongEr e thi s be t hr own asi de,And wi t h new j oy and pr i de

The l i t t l e Act or cons anot her par t ;Fi l l i ng f r om t i me to t i me hi s " humor ous st age"Wi t h al l t he Per sons, down t o pal si ed Age,That Li f e br i ngs wi t h her i n her equi page;

As i f hi s whol e vocat i onWer e endl ess i mi t at i on.

VI I I

Thou, whose ext er i or sembl ance doth bel i eThy Soul ' s i mmensi t y;

Thou best Phi l osopher , who yet dost keepThy her i t age, t hou Eye among t he bl i nd,That , deaf and si l ent , r ead' st t he et er nal deep,Haunt ed f or ever by the et ernal mi nd, - -

Mi ght y Pr ophet ! Seer bl est !On whomt hose t r ut hs do r est ,

Whi ch we ar e t oi l i ng al l our l i ves t o f i nd,I n dar kness l ost , t he dar kness of t he gr ave;Thou, over whom t hy I mmor t al i t yBr oods l i ke t he Day, a Mast er o' er a Sl ave,A Presence whi ch i s not t o be put by;Thou l i t t l e Chi l d, yet gl or i ous i n t he mi ght


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Of heaven- born f r eedom on t hy bei ng' s hei ght ,Why wi t h such earnest pai ns dost t hou pr ovokeThe years t o br i ng t he i nevi t abl e yoke,Thus bl i ndl y wi t h t hy bl essedness at st r i f e?Ful l soon t hy Soul shal l have her ear t hl y f r ei ght ,And cust om l i e upon t hee wi t h a wei ght

Heavy as f r ost , and deep al most as l i f e!

I X

O j oy! t hat i n our embersI s somet hi ng t hat dot h l i ve,That nature yet r emembersWhat was so f ugi t i ve!

The t hought of our past years i n me doth breedPer pet ual benedi ct i on: not i ndeedFor t hat whi ch i s most wor t hy t o be bl est - -Del i ght and l i ber t y, t he si mpl e cr eedOf Chi l dhood, whet her busy or at r est ,

Wi t h new- f l edged hope st i l l f l ut t er i ng i n hi sbreast: - -Not f or t hese I r ai seThe song of t hanks and prai se;

But f or t hose obst i nat e quest i oni ngsOf sense and out ward t hi ngs,Fal l i ngs f r om us, vani shi ngs;Bl ank mi sgi vi ngs of a Cr eat ur e

Movi ng about i n wor l ds not r eal i sed,Hi gh i nst i nct s bef or e whi ch our mor t al Natur eDi d t r embl e l i ke a gui l t y Thi ng sur pr i sed:

But f or t hose f i rst af f ect i ons,Those shadowy r ecol l ect i ons,

Whi ch, be they what t hey may,Ar e yet t he f ount ai n l i ght of al l our day,Ar e yet a mast er l i ght of al l our seei ng;

Uphol d us, cher i sh, and have power t o makeOur noi sy year s seem moment s i n t he bei ngOf t he et er nal Si l ence: t r ut hs t hat wake,

To per i sh never;Whi ch nei t her l i st l essness, nor mad endeavour ,

Nor Man nor Boy,Nor al l t hat i s at enmi t y wi t h j oy,Can ut t er l y abol i sh or dest r oy!

Hence i n a season of cal m weat herThough i nl and f ar we be,

Our Soul s have si ght of t hat i mmort al seaWhi ch br ought us hi t her ,Can i n a moment t r avel t hi t her,

And see t he Chi l dr en spor t upon t he shor e,And hear t he mi ght y waters r ol l i ng evermore.

X

Then si ng, ye Bi r ds, si ng, si ng a j oyous song!And l et t he young Lambs boundAs t o t he t abor' s sound!

We i n t hought wi l l j oi n your t hr ong,Ye t hat pi pe and ye t hat pl ay,Ye t hat t hrough your hear t s t o- dayFeel t he gl adness of t he May!

What t hough t he radi ance whi ch was once so br i ghtBe now f or ever t aken f r om my si ght ,

Though nothi ng can br i ng back t he hour


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Of spl endour i n t he gr ass, of gl or y i n t he f l ower ;We wi l l gr i eve not , r at her f i ndStr ength i n what r emai ns behi nd;I n t he pr i mal sympat hyWhi ch havi ng been must ever be;I n t he soot hi ng t hought s t hat spr i ng

Out of human suf f eri ng;I n t he f ai t h t hat l ooks t hr ough deat h,I n year s t hat br i ng t he phi l osophi c mi nd.

XI

And O, ye Fountai ns, Meadows, Hi l l s, and Gr oves,For ebode not any sever i ng of our l oves!Yet i n my hear t of heart s I f eel your mi ght ;I onl y have r el i nqui shed one del i ghtTo l i ve beneat h your mor e habi t ual sway.I l ove t he Br ooks whi ch down thei r channel s f r et ,Even more t han when I t r i pped l i ght l y as t hey;

The i nnocent br i ghtness of a new- born DayI s l ovel y yet ;The Cl ouds t hat gather r ound t he set t i ng sunDo t ake a sober col our i ng f r oman eyeThat hath kept wat ch o' er man' s mor t al i t y;Anot her r ace hath been, and ot her pal ms ar e won.Thanks t o t he human hear t by whi ch we l i ve,Thanks t o i t s t ender ness, i t s j oys, and f ears,To me t he meanest f l ower t hat bl ows can gi veThoughts t hat do of t en l i e t oo deep f or t ears.

1803- 6.

LUCY GRAYOR, SOLITUDE

OFT I had hear d of Lucy Gr ay:And, when I cr ossed t he wi l d,I chanced t o see at br eak of dayThe sol i t ar y chi l d.

No mat e, no comr ade Lucy knew;She dwel t on a wi de moor,- - The sweetest t hi ng that ever gr ew

Besi de a human door !

You yet may spy t he f awn at pl ay,The hare upon t he green;

10But t he sweet f ace of Lucy Gr ayWi l l never more be seen.

"To- ni ght wi l l be a st or my ni ght - -You t o t he t own must go;And t ake a l ant er n, Chi l d, t o l i ghtYour mot her t hrough t he snow. "

"That , Fat her ! wi l l I gl adl y do:' Ti s scar cel y af t er noon- -The mi nst er - cl ock has j ust st r uck t wo,And yonder i s t he moon! "


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20

At t hi s t he Fat her r ai sed hi s hook,And snapped a f aggot - band;He pl i ed hi s wor k; - - and Lucy tookThe l anter n i n her hand.

Not bl i t her i s t he mount ai n roe:Wi t h many a wanton st r okeHer f eet di sper se t he powdery snow,That r i ses up l i ke smoke.

The st or m came on bef or e i t s t i me:She wander ed up and down;

30And many a hi l l di d Lucy cl i mb:But never r eached the t own.

The wr et ched parents al l t hat ni ght

Went shout i ng f ar and wi de;But t here was nei t her sound nor si ghtTo ser ve t hem f or a gui de.

At day- br eak on a hi l l t hey st oodThat over l ooked t he moor ;And t hence t hey saw t he bri dge of wood,A f ur l ong f r om t hei r door .

40

They wept - - and, t urni ng homewar d, cr i ed," I n heaven we al l shal l meet ; "- - When i n t he snow t he mother spi edThe pr i nt of Lucy' s f eet .

Then downwar ds f r om t he st eep hi l l ' s edgeThey t r acked t he f ootmar ks smal l ;And t hrough t he broken hawt hor n hedge,And by the l ong st one- wal l ;

And t hen an open f i el d t hey cr ossed:The mar ks wer e st i l l t he same;

50They t r acked t hem on, nor ever l ost ;And t o the br i dge they came.

They f ol l owed f r om t he snowy bankThose f ootmar ks, one by one,I nt o t he mi ddl e of t he pl ank;And f ur t her t her e were none!

- - Yet some mai nt ai n t hat t o t hi s dayShe i s a l i vi ng chi l d;That you may see sweet Lucy Gr ayUpon the l onesome wi l d.

60

O' er r ough and smoot h she t r i ps al ong,And never l ooks behi nd;And si ngs a sol i t ar y songThat whi st l es i n t he wi nd.

1799.


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Wordsworth Tintern Abbey Abridged