LUCY It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! In a vision once I saw : It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 't would win me I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! Those caves of ice! For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise. 59 Samuel Taylor Coleridge. LUCY 1 SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways A maid whom there were none to praise, A violet by a mossy stone Half-hidden from the eye! 1 Note 6. Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and oh! The difference to me! William Wordsworth. THREE LUCY in sun and shower; years she grew Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown : This child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse: and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, To kindle or restrain. "She shall be sportive as the fawn LUCY "The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see E'en in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form "The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound "And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give While she and I together live Here in this happy dell." How soon my Lucy's race was run! She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene; The memory of what has been, And never more will be. 61 William Wordsworth. TO DIANEME SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes When all your world of beauty's gone. Robert Herrick. THE TRUE BEAUTY HE that loves a rosy cheek But a smooth and steadfast mind, Kindle never-dying fires:- Thomas Carew. TO A CHILD OF QUALITY 63 TO A CHILD OF QUALITY, FIVE YEARS OLD1 LORDS, knights, and 'squires, the numerous band My pen, among the rest, I took, Lest those bright eyes that cannot read Should dart their kindling fires, and look The power they have to be obeyed. Nor quality, nor reputation, Forbid me yet my flame to tell, For, while she makes her silkworm beds She may receive and own my flame, For, though the strictest prudes should know it, She'll pass for a most virtuous dame, And I for an unhappy poet. Then, too, alas! when she shall tear 1 Note 7. |