------It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out),
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
I left our cottage threshold, sallying forth 5
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung,
A nutting-crook in hand, and turned my steps
Toward some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint,
Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds,
Which for that service had been husbanded, 10
By exhortation of my frugal Dame,--
Motley accoutrement, of power to smile
At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, and, in truth,
More ragged than need was! O'er pathless rocks,
Through beds of matted fern and tangled thickets, 15
Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation; but the hazels rose
Tall and erect, with tempting clusters hung, 20
A virgin scene! A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and with wise restraint
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
The banquet; or beneath the trees I sate 25
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played;
A temper known to those, who, after long
And weary expectation, have been blest
With sudden happiness beyond all hope.
Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves 30
The violets of five seasons reappear
And fade, unseen by any human eye;
Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
Forever; and I saw the sparkling foam,
And, with my cheek on one of those green stones 35
That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees,
Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep,
I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Tribute to ease; and of its joy secure, 40
The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,
And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash
And merciless ravage: and the shady nook 45
Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up
Their quiet being: and unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past,
Ere from the mutilated bower I turned 50
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky.--
Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades
In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand 55
Touch,--for there is a spirit in the woods.
5. OUR COTTAGE THRESHOLD. "The house at which I was boarded during the
time I was at school." (Wordsworth's note, 1800). The school was the
Hawkshead School.
9. TRICKED OUT=_dressed_. The verb "to trick"="to dress" is derived
probably from the noun, "trick" in the sense of 'a dexterous artifice,'
'a touch.' See "Century Dictionary."
CAST-OFF WEEDS=_cast-off clothes_. Wordsworth originally wrote 'of
Beggar's weeds.' What prompted him to change the expression?