( from Wordsworth's 'poems on the naming of places')
Close to the spot where
with my rod and line
angling beside the margin
of the lake,
Sole-sitting by the shores
of old romance
a bed of water in the
woods did wake.
The spot was made by
nature for herself,
this glade of water and
this one green field,
And if a man should plant
his cottage near
a cloistered place, of
refuge, shade and shield.
In that perennial shade of
unencumbered floor
a single beech tree grew
and on the fork
a thrush's nest
conspicuously built,
Sentry on a tranquil spot,
a solitary stork.
From the remotest
outskirts of the grove
a few sheep, stragglers
from some mountain flock
sought protection from the
nipping blast
in playgrounds of their
youth, on footloose rock.
Full many an hour here did
I lose,
Well worn the track,
unwearied and alone,
Muttering the verses which
I muttered first
on blooming heath, my
couch and mine alone.
Interesting -- the sense of territoriality becomes strong with the end paragraph (as opposed to for "Mary," per the original.) One almost fears to intrude; and yet, since the poem is posted here, it becomes acceptable to visit it. Which is fortunate, because it's lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the thoughtful comment. We intend to reactivate this blog very soon now that our PC problems are at an end.
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