The poetical works of William Wordsworth ... In six volumes ... A new edition |
![]() | I. |
![]() |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() | IV. |
![]() | V. |
![]() | VI. |
![]() | The poetical works of William Wordsworth | ![]() |
279
II.
[How sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks]
How sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocksThe wayward brain, to saunter through a wood!
An old place, full of many a lovely brood,
Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks;
And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks,
Like a bold Girl, who plays her agile pranks
At Wakes and Fairs with wandering Mountebanks,—
When she stands cresting the Clown's head, and mocks
The crowd beneath her. Verily I think,
Such place to me is sometimes like a dream
Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link,
Enter through ears and eyesight, with such gleam
Of all things, that at last in fear I shrink,
And leap at once from the delicious stream.
![]() | The poetical works of William Wordsworth | ![]() |