Poem by William Wordsworth

Strange Fits of Passion

Strange fits of passion I have known:
And I will dare to tell,
But in the Lover's ear alone,
What once to me befel.

When she I loved was strong and gay,
And like a rose in June,
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath the evening Moon.

Upon the Moon I fixed my eye,
AH over the wide lea:
My Horse trudged on—and we drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.

And now we reached the orchard plot;
And, as we climbed the hill,
Towards the roof of Lucy's cot
The Moon descended still.

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature's gentlest boon!
And, all the while, my eyes I kept
On the descending Moon.

My Horse moved on; hoof after hoof
He raised, and never stopp'd:
When down behind the cottage roof
At once the bright Moon dropp'd.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a Lover's head—
"O mercy!" to myself I cried,
"If Lucy should be dead!"

1. Upon the Sight of a Beautiful Picture Painted by Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart
2. Alice Fell, Or Poverty
3. The Sparrow's Nest
4. Ellen Irwin, Or the Braes of Kirtle
5. Brook! Whose Society the Poet Seeks

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