Читать книгу Poems in Two Volumes, Volume 2 - William Wordsworth - Страница 6

  Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower

  Of beauty is thy earthly dower!

  Twice seven consenting years have shed

  Their utmost bounty on thy head:

  And these gray Rocks; this household Lawn;

  These Trees, a veil just half withdrawn;

  This fall of water, that doth make

  A murmur near the silent Lake;

  This little Bay, a quiet Road

  That holds in shelter thy Abode;

  In truth together ye do seem

  Like something fashion'd in a dream;

  Such Forms as from their covert peep

  When earthly cares are laid asleep!

  Yet, dream and vision as thou art,

  I bless thee with a human heart:

  God shield thee to thy latest years!

  I neither know thee nor thy peers;

  And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears.

  With earnest feeling I shall pray

  For thee when I am far away:

  For never saw I mien, or face,

  In which more plainly I could trace

  Benignity and home-bred sense

  Ripening in perfect innocence.

  Here, scatter'd like a random seed,

  Remote from men, Thou dost not need

  The embarrass'd look of shy distress,

  And maidenly shamefacedness:

  Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear

  The freedom of a Mountaineer.

  A face with gladness overspread!

  Sweet looks, by human kindness bred!

  And seemliness complete, that sways

  Thy courtesies, about thee plays;

  With no restraint, but such as springs

  From quick and eager visitings

  Of thoughts, that lie beyond the reach

  Of thy few words of English speech:

  A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife

  That gives thy gestures grace and life!

  So have I, not unmov'd in mind,

  Seen birds of tempest-loving kind,

  Thus beating up against the wind.

  What hand but would a garland cull

  For thee who art so beautiful?

  O happy pleasure! here to dwell

  Beside thee in some heathy dell;

  Adopt your homely ways and dress,

  A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess!

  But I could frame a wish for thee

  More like a grave reality:

  Thou art to me but as a wave

  Of the wild sea; and I would have

  Some claim upon thee, if I could,

  Though but of common neighbourhood.

  What joy to hear thee, and to see!

  Thy elder Brother I would be,

  Thy Father, any thing to thee!

  Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace

  Hath led me to this lonely place.

  Joy have I had; and going hence

  I bear away my recompence.

  In spots like these it is we prize

  Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes:

  Then, why should I be loth to stir?

  I feel this place was made for her;

  To give new pleasure like the past,

  Continued long as life shall last.

  Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart,

  Sweet Highland Girl! from Thee to part;

  For I, methinks, till I grow old,

  As fair before me shall behold,

  As I do now, the Cabin small,

  The Lake, the Bay, the Waterfall;

  And Thee, the Spirit of them all!