Читать книгу Poems in Two Volumes, Volume 1 - William Wordsworth - Страница 4

  She was a Phantom of delight

  When first she gleam'd upon my sight;

  A lovely Apparition, sent

  To be a moment's ornament;

  Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;

  Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

  But all things else about her drawn

  From May-time and the chearful Dawn;

  A dancing Shape, an Image gay,

  To haunt, to startle, and way-lay. 10

  I saw her upon nearer view,

  A Spirit, yet a Woman too!

  Her household motions light and free,

  And steps of virgin liberty;

  A countenance in which did meet

  Sweet records, promises as sweet;

  A Creature not too bright or good

  For human nature's daily food;

  For transient sorrows, simple wiles,

  Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 20

  And now I see with eye serene

  The very pulse of the machine;

  A Being breathing thoughtful breath;

  A Traveller betwixt life and death;

  The reason firm, the temperate will,

  Endurance, foresight, strength and skill;

  A perfect Woman; nobly plann'd,

  To warn, to comfort, and command;

  And yet a Spirit still, and bright

  With something of an angel light. 30

  Art thou the Bird whom Man loves best,

  The pious Bird with the scarlet breast,

      Our little English Robin;

  The Bird that comes about our doors

  When Autumn winds are sobbing?

  Art thou the Peter of Norway Boors?

      Their Thomas in Finland,

      And Russia far inland?

  The Bird, whom by some name or other

  All men who know thee call their Brother, 10

  The Darling of Children and men?

  Could Father Adam open his eyes,

  And see this sight beneath the skies,

  He'd wish to close them again.

  If the Butterfly knew but his friend

  Hither his flight he would bend,

  And find his way to me

  Under the branches of the tree:

  In and out, he darts about;

  His little heart is throbbing: 20

  Can this be the Bird, to man so good,

      Our consecrated Robin!

  That, after their bewildering,

  Did cover with leaves the little children,

      So painfully in the wood?

  What ail'd thee Robin that thou could'st pursue

      A beautiful Creature,

  That is gentle by nature?

  Beneath the summer sky

  From flower to flower let him fly; 30

  'Tis all that he wishes to do.

  The Chearer Thou of our in-door sadness,

  He is the Friend of our summer gladness:

  What hinders, then, that ye should be

  Playmates in the sunny weather,

  And fly about in the air together?

  Like the hues of thy breast

  His beautiful wings in crimson are drest,

  A brother he seems of thine own:

  If thou would'st be happy in thy nest, 40

  O pious Bird! whom Man loves best,

  Love him, or leave him alone!