A virtuous populace may rise the while, With a few sheep, with rocks and stones, And stand a wall of fire around their and kites That overhead are sailing in the sky. Nor should I have made mention of this dell But for one object which you might pass by, Might see and notice not. Beside the brook Appears a straggling heap of unhewn stones! And to that simple object appertains But still the patriot, and the patriot Of shepherds, dwellers in the valleys, men bard, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770-1850) MICHAEL (A Pastoral Poem) If from the public way you turn your steps Ghyll, Up the tumultuous brook of Greenhead On man, the heart of man, and human life. path Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent The pastoral mountains front you face to face. sake Of youthful poets who among these hills Will be my second self when I am gone. Upon the forest-side in Grasmere Vale 4o There dwelt a Shepherd, Michael was his name; An old man, stout of heart, and strong of limb. Of the dumb animals whom he had saved, His bodily frame had been from youth The certainty of honorable gain; There by the light of this old lamp they Old Michael, while he was a babe in arms, sat, Father and son, while far into the night. The housewife plied her own peculiar work, Making the cottage through the silent hours Had done him female service, not alone For pastime and delight, as is the use Of fathers, but with patient mind enforced To acts of tenderness; and he had rocked His cradle as with a woman's gentle hand |