Poem by William Wordsworth

* * *

"BELOVED Vale!" I said, "when I shall con
Those many records of my childish years,
Remembrance of myself and of my peers
Will press me down: to think of what is gone
Will be an awful thought, if life have one."
But, when into the Vale I came, no fears
Distressed me; from mine eyes escaped no tears;
Deep thought, or dread remembrance, had I none.
By doubts and thousand petty fancies crost
I stood, of simple shame the blushing Thrall;
So narrow seemed the brooks, the fields so small!
A Juggler's balls old Time about him tossed;
I looked, I stared, I smiled, I laughed; and all
The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.

1. Upon the Sight of a Beautiful Picture Painted by Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart
2. To the Memory of Raisley Calvert
3. Alice Fell, Or Poverty
4. The Sparrow's Nest
5. Ellen Irwin, Or the Braes of Kirtle

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