Not quite so fair as many are

In heaven above thee!

Yet like a star, with glittering crest,

Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;-
May peace come never to his nest
Who shall reprove thee !

Bright Flower! for by that name at last,
When all my reveries are past,

I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
Sweet silent creature!

That breath'st with me in sun and air,
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
My heart with gladness, and a share

Of thy meek nature!

In 1843 Wordsworth gave 1805 as the year in which this poem was composed, but the Fenwick note prefixed to it renders this impossible. It evidently belongs to the same time, and "mood," as the previous poem.-ED.

[This and the other Poems addressed to the same flower were composed at Town-end, Grasmere, during the earlier part of my residence there. I have been censured for the last line but one-"thy function apostolical"—as being little less than profane. How could it be thought so? The word is adopted with reference to its derivation, implying something sent on a mission; and assuredly this little flower, especially when the subject of verse, may be regarded, in its humble degree, as administering both to moral and to spiritual purposes.]

BRIGHT Flower! whose home is everywhere,
Bold in maternal Nature's care,1

A Pilgrim bold in Nature's care,
Confiding Flower, by Nature's care,
Made bold,-who, lodging here or there,
Art all the long year through the heir

Of joy or sorrow,

1807.

1836.

And all the long year through the heir
Of joy or sorrow;

Methinks that there abides in thee
Some concord with humanity,1

Given to no other flower I see
The forest thorough!

Is it that Man is soon deprest?

A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest,
Does little on his memory rest,

Or on his reason,

And Thou would'st teach him how to find
A shelter under every wind,

A hope for times that are unkind
And every season?

Thou wander'st the wide world about,
Uncheck'd by pride or scrupulous doubt,
With friends to greet thee, or without,
Yet pleased and willing;

Meek, yielding to the occasion's call,
And all things suffering from all,
Thy function apostolical

In peace fulfilling.

These three Poems on The Daisy evidently belong to the same time, and are, as Wordsworth expressly says, "overflowings of the same mood." Nevertheless, in the revised edition of 1836, he gave the date 1802 to the first and the third, and 1805 to the second of them. In the earlier editions 1815 to 1832, they are all classed amongst the "Poems of the Fancy," but in ed. 1836, the last, "Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere," is ranked amongst the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." They should manifestly be arranged together. The fourth poem To the Daisy-consisting of elegiac stanzas on his brother John, belonging to a subsequent year, and having no connection with the three preceding poems-will be found in its chronological place.-Ed.

1 1807.

Communion with humanity,

Some concord, &c.,

1836.

readopted in 1843.

1803.

The poems associated with the year 1803 consist mainly of the "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland," which Wordsworth and his sister took-along with Coleridge-in the autumn of that year, although many of these were not written till some time after the Tour was finished. The Green Linnet and Yew-trees were written in 1803, and some sonnets were composed in the month of October; but, on the whole, 1803 was not a fruitful year, in Wordsworth's life, as regards his lyrics and smaller poems. Doubtless both The Prelude and The Excursion were being revised and added to in 1803.-ED.

[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere, where the bird was often seen as here described.]

BENEATH these fruit-tree boughs that shed

Their snow-white blossoms on my head,

With brightest sunshine round me spread
Of spring's unclouded weather,

In this sequestered nook how sweet
To sit upon my orchard-seat!

And birds and flowers once more to greet,
My last year's friends together.1

One have I marked, the happiest guest
In all this covert of the blest:
Hail to Thee, far above the rest

In joy of voice and pinion!
Thou, Linnet in thy green array,
Presiding Spirit here to-day,

Dost lead the revels of the May;
And this is thy dominion.

While birds, and butterflies, and flowers,
Make all one band of paramours,
Thou, ranging up and down the bowers,
Art sole in thy employment:

A Life, a Presence like the Air,
Scattering thy gladness without care

Too blest with any one to pair;
Thyself thy own enjoyment.

Amid yon tuft of hazel trees,
That twinkle to the gusty breeze,
Behold him perched in ecstacies,
Yet seeming still to hover;

There where the flutter of his wings.
Upon his back and body flings
Shadows and sunny glimmerings,
That cover him all over.

My dazzled sight he oft deceives,
A Brother of the dancing leaves;
Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves
Pours forth his song in gushes;

As if by that exulting strain

He mocked and treated with disdain

The voiceless Form he chose to feign,
While fluttering in the bushes.1

This, of all Wordsworth's Poems, is the one most distinctively associated with the Orchard, at Town-end, Grasmere.—ED.

[Written at Grasmere. These Yew-trees are still standing, but the spread of that at Lorton is much diminished by mutilation. I will here mention that a little way up the hill, on the road leading from Rosthwaite to Stonethwaite (in Borrowdale) lay the trunk of a Yew-tree, which appeared as you approached, so vast was its diameter, like the entrance of a cave, and not a small one. Calculating upon what I have observed of the slow growth of this tree in rocky situations, and of its durability, I have often thought that the one I am describing must have been as old as the Christian era. The Tree lay in the line of a fence. Great masses of its ruins were strewn about, and some had been