XIX. THE HAUNTED TREE. ΤΟ THOSE silver clouds collected round the sun His mid-day warmth abate not, seeming less By soft reflection— grateful to the sky, To rocks, fields, woods. Nor doth our human sense Ask, for its pleasure, screen or canopy More ample than the time-dismantled Oak Spreads o'er this tuft of heath, which now, attired Was fashioned; whether by the hand of Art, On silken tissue, might diffuse his limbs Than fairest spiritual Creature of the groves, Approach - and, thus invited, crown with rest The noon-tide hour: — though truly some there are Whose footsteps superstitiously avoid This venerable Tree; for, when the wind a doleful note! As if (so Grecian shepherds would have deemed) The Hamadryad, pent within, bewailed Some bitter wrong. Nor is it unbelieved, By ruder fancy, that a troubled Ghost Haunts this old Trunk; lamenting deeds of which The flowery ground is conscious. But no wind Sweeps now along this elevated ridge; Not even a zephyr stirs ;- the obnoxious Tree Is mute, and, in his silence, would look down, O lovely Wanderer of the trackless hills, On thy reclining form with more delight Vividly pictured in some glassy pool, That, for a brief space, checks the hurrying stream! XX. WRITTEN IN MARCH, WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF THE Cock is crowing, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest ; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! The Snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The Plough-boy is whooping-anon Blue sky prevailing ; The rain is over and gone! anon: XXI. GIPSIES. YET are they here the same unbroken knot Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light, Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. -Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours, are gone while I Have been a Traveller under open sky, Much witnessing of change and cheer, Yet as I left I find them here! The weary Sun betook himself to rest. Then issued Vesper from the fulgent West, Outshining like a visible God The glorious path in which he trod. |