 | Poems of home and travel |  |
129
WORDSWORTH.
I saw thee not, what time mine eyes beheldFar-off Helvellyn skirt the misty sea,
When wild Manx waters foamed and tumbled free
Around my keel: I saw thee not, when swelled
Beyond Northumbrian moors the soft-blue line
Of mountain chains that look on Windermere;
Yet was it joy to know thy paths so near,
Thy voice on all those hills, O Bard divine!
But I shall see thee where thou sittest now,
Musing, uplift o'er deeps of diamond air,
And I shall feel the splendor of thy brow
Thrown on the scanty wreath that binds my hair,
As, looking down benignly on my place,
Thou read'st the reverence in my lifted face.
| Poems of home and travel | |