The murmur of a neighbouring streami A pregnant dream, within whose shadowy bounds And That which glittered from afar; And (strange to witness!) from the frame Intelligible sounds. Much did it taunt the humble Light That now, when day was fled, and night Hushed the dark earth, fast closing weary eyes, A very reptile could presume To show her taper in the gloom, As if in rivalship with One Who sate a ruler on his throne "Exalted Star!" the Worm replied, But not for this do I aspire To match the spark of local fire, That at my will burns on the dewy lawn, VOL. II. E What favours do attend me here, Till, like thyself, I disappear Before the purple dawn.” When this in modest guise was said, In the blue depth, like Lucifer Cast headlong to the pit! Fire raged: and, when the spangled floor Of ancient ether was no more, New heavens succeeded, by the dream brought forth: And all the happy Souls that rode Transfigured through that fresh abode, Had heretofore, in humble trust, This knowledge, from an Angel's voice XXVI. THE POET AND THE CAGED TURTLEDOVE. [WRITTEN at Rydal Mount. This dove was one of a pair that had been given to my daughter by our excellent friend, Miss Jewsbury, who went to India with her husband, Mr. Fletcher, where she died of cholera. The dove survived its mate many years, and was killed to our great sorrow by a neighbour's cat that got in at the window and dragged it partly out of the cage. These verses were composed extempore, to the letter, in the Terrace Summer-house before spoken of. It was the habit of the bird to begin cooing and murmuring whenever it heard me making my verses.] As often as I murmur here My half-formed melodies, Straight from her osier mansion near, Though silent as a leaf before, I rather think, the gentle Dove If such thy meaning, O forbear, 'Mid grove, and by the calm fireside, That coo again!-'tis not to chide, 1880. XXVII. A WREN'S NEST. [WRITTEN at Rydal Mount. This nest was built, as described, in a tree that grows near the pool in Dora's field next the Rydal Mount garden.] AMONG the dwellings framed by birds In field or forest with nice care, No door the tenement requires, And seldom needs a laboured roof; Yet is it to the fiercest sun Impervious, and storm-proof. So warm, so beautiful withal, And when for their abodes they seek An opportune recess, For shadowy quietness. These find, 'mid ivied abbey-walls, There to the brooding bird her mate Or in sequestered lanes they build, But still, where general choice is good, This, one of those small builders proved In a green covert, where, from out The forehead of a pollard oak, The leafy antlers sprout; For She who planned the mossy lodge, Had to a Primrose looked for aid |