W. WORDSWORTH.

178.

I travell'd among unknown men

In lands beyond the sea;

Nor, England! did I know till then

What love I bore to thee.

'Tis past, that melancholy dream!

Nor will I quit thy shore

A second time, for still I seem

To love thee more and more.

Among thy mountains did I feel

The joy of my desire;

And she I cherish'd turn'd her wheel

Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings showed, thy nights conceal'd,

The bowers where Lucy play'd;

And thine too is the last green field

That Lucy's eyes survey'd.

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