 | The poetical works of Henry Alford |  |
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XVI. RECOLLECTION OF WORDSWORTH'S “RUTH.”
Here are the brows of Quantock, purple-cladWith lavish heath-bloom: there, the banks of Tone.
Where is that woman, love-forlorn and sad,
Piping her flute of hemlock all alone?
I hear the Quantock woodman whistling home,—
The sunset flush is over Dunkery:—
I fear me much that she hath ceased to roam
Up the steep path, and lie beneath the tree.
I always fancied I should hear in sooth
That music,—but it sounds not!—wayward tears
Are filling in mine eyes for thee, poor Ruth;—
I had forgotten all the lapse of years
Since thy deep griefs were hallowed by the pen
Of that most pure of poesy-gifted men.
| The poetical works of Henry Alford | |