 | Lyrical Poems |  |
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THE BOW-WINDOW.
As I came o'er from Patterdale
To leafy Ambleside,
'Twas there I met the bonnie Scotch lass
That soon should be my bride.
She sate and looked from a bow-window,
By the steepy steepy road;
And down upon me, as I passed,
Her queenly beauty flowed.
To leafy Ambleside,
'Twas there I met the bonnie Scotch lass
That soon should be my bride.
She sate and looked from a bow-window,
By the steepy steepy road;
And down upon me, as I passed,
Her queenly beauty flowed.
I trudged along to Rydal mount,
I came to green Grasmere,
I sate beside the Poet's grave,
I looked on the waters clear.
But through the mount, and the mead, and the mere
One sunny presence flowed,
Of the maid that smiled from the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
I came to green Grasmere,
I sate beside the Poet's grave,
I looked on the waters clear.
But through the mount, and the mead, and the mere
One sunny presence flowed,
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At Ambleside on the road.
I wandered up to lone Langdale,
I clomb the lofty Fell,
And the mist came down, and the storm did bray,
And the floods did rudely swell.
But through the mist, and the wind, and the rain,
And the floods that savagely flowed,
That fair face smiled from the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
I clomb the lofty Fell,
And the mist came down, and the storm did bray,
And the floods did rudely swell.
But through the mist, and the wind, and the rain,
And the floods that savagely flowed,
That fair face smiled from the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
I turned me back to Ambleside,
I might no farther wander;
I flung my guide-book in the beck,
As I tracked its clear meander.
And ever as I nearer came,
More sweetly round me flowed
That witching smile from the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
I might no farther wander;
I flung my guide-book in the beck,
As I tracked its clear meander.
And ever as I nearer came,
More sweetly round me flowed
That witching smile from the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
I lived a month at Ambleside,
A month and nearly two,
When hills were green, and streams were small,
And skies were cloudless blue.
And every night when the westering sun
With mellowing radiance glowed,
I walked not far from the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
A month and nearly two,
When hills were green, and streams were small,
And skies were cloudless blue.
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With mellowing radiance glowed,
I walked not far from the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
How then from knowing liking grew,
Let dainty silence cover;
Till Autumn's ripening hour me found
Her bosom's lord, her lover!
'Twas high in Scandale's ferny glen
From her lips the sweet words flowed,
That bade me share her bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
Let dainty silence cover;
Till Autumn's ripening hour me found
Her bosom's lord, her lover!
'Twas high in Scandale's ferny glen
From her lips the sweet words flowed,
That bade me share her bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
And now—O Heaven!—what bliss is mine!
I flung my books away,
My Homer and my Sophocles,
All papers grim and grey.
For now I've found my nobler self,
I'm nearer to man and to God,
Since I live on her love in the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
I flung my books away,
My Homer and my Sophocles,
All papers grim and grey.
For now I've found my nobler self,
I'm nearer to man and to God,
Since I live on her love in the bow-window
At Ambleside on the road.
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