 | New Poems by George Crabbe |  |
It wanted something that was like itself,
But not itself! & in her devious Walks,
Or on the Heath, or by the rapid brook,
Not in the Path way! not within ye Wood,
Nor where a Bound was fixt, nor where ye feet
Of Numbers marked the Way! she chose her own,
But in her own she mus'd! & dared to think
Of Forms & Minds that she should love to know!
The Forms majestic with the noblest Mind,
Beauty & Courage! Tenderness & Grace,
Not without Splendour! in ye very Garb
And Grandeur in the Mein! & she would suit
Deeds to the Man! Elizabeth was young.
While thus she lived, & thought, & wish'd, & dreamt,
Her Aunt died Suddenly—
But not itself! & in her devious Walks,
Or on the Heath, or by the rapid brook,
Not in the Path way! not within ye Wood,
Nor where a Bound was fixt, nor where ye feet
Of Numbers marked the Way! she chose her own,
But in her own she mus'd! & dared to think
Of Forms & Minds that she should love to know!
The Forms majestic with the noblest Mind,
Beauty & Courage! Tenderness & Grace,
Not without Splendour! in ye very Garb
And Grandeur in the Mein! & she would suit
Deeds to the Man! Elizabeth was young.
While thus she lived, & thought, & wish'd, & dreamt,
Her Aunt died Suddenly—
| New Poems by George Crabbe | |