University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

collapse sectionI. 
expand section 
expand section 
expand section 
expand section 
collapse section 
  
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
  
expand section 
expand section 
expand section 
expand section 
expand section 
expand section 
expand sectionII. 
expand sectionIII. 
expand sectionIV. 
expand sectionV. 
expand sectionVI. 

XXV. AFTER READING AGAIN HIS LETTERS.—2.

At times I see that ample forehead lit,
Bright as the day-spring round the mounted lark;
At times I see thee stand in musing fit;
At times in woodlands of that twilight park,
Deciphering well-loved names on beechen bark:
Where Rotha's moonlight ripples past thee flit,
I see the kiss a grave—then by it sit—
Her grave that left the land's chief Poet dark.
This day I read thy letters. Word and scene
Recur with strangely mingled joy and ruth;
Thy soul translucent; yet thine insight keen,
Thy heart's deep yearnings and perpetual youth;
Thy courtesy, thy reverence, and thy truth—
All that thou wert, and all thou mightst have been!
 

Abbotstown.

That of Wordsworth's daughter.