Poems Written in Youth by William Wordsworth

Author:William Wordsworth
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: poetry
Publisher: (Privatkopie)
Published: 2010-02-02T23:00:00+00:00

Gay lark of hope thy silent song resume!

Fair smiling lights the purpled hills illume!

Soft gales and dews of life's delicious morn,

And thou! lost fragrance of the heart return!

Soon26 flies the little joy to man allow'd,

And tears before him travel like a cloud.

For come Diseases on, and Penury's rage,

Labour, and Pain, and Grief, and joyless Age,

And Conscience dogging close his bleeding way

Cries out, and leads her Spectres to their prey,

'Till Hope-deserted, long in vain his breath

Implores the dreadful untried sleep of Death.

– Mid savage rocks and seas of snow that shine

Between interminable tracts of pine,

Round a lone fane the human Genii mourn,

Where fierce the rays of woe collected burn.

– From viewless lamps a ghastly dimness falls,

And ebbs uncertain on the troubled walls,

Dim dreadful faces thro' the gloom appear,

Abortive Joy, and Hope that works in fear,

While strives a secret Power to hush the croud,

Pain's wild rebellious burst proclaims her rights aloud.

Oh give not me that eye of hard disdain

That views undimm'd Einsiedlen's wretched fane.27

Mid muttering prayers all sounds of torment meet,

Dire clap of hands, distracted chase of feet,

While loud and dull ascends the weeping cry,

Surely in other thoughts contempt may die.

If the sad grave of human ignorance bear

One flower of hope – Oh pass and leave it there.

– The tall Sun, tip-toe on an Alpine spire,

Flings o'er the desert blood-red streams of fire.

At such an hour there are who love to stray,

And meet the gladdening pilgrims on their way.

– Now with joy's tearful kiss each other greet,

Nor longer naked be your way-worn feet,

For ye have reach'd at last the happy shore,

Where the charm'd worm of pain shall gnaw no more.

How gayly murmur and how sweetly taste

The fountains28 rear'd for you amid the waste!

Yes I will see you when ye first behold

Those turrets tipp'd by hope with morning gold,

And watch, while on your brows the cross ye make,

Round your pale eyes a wintry lustre wake.

– Without one hope her written griefs to blot,

Save in the land where all things are forgot,

My heart, alive to transports long unknown,

Half wishes your delusion were it's own.

Last let us turn to where Chamouny29 shields,

Bosom'd in gloomy woods, her golden fields,

Five streams of ice amid her cots descend,

And with wild flowers and blooming orchards blend,

A scene more fair than what the Grecian feigns

Of purple lights and even vernal plains.

Here lawns and shades by breezy rivulets fann'd,

Here all the Seasons revel hand in hand.

– Red stream the cottage lights; the landscape fades,

Erroneous wavering mid the twilight shades.

Alone ascends that mountain nam'd of white30

That dallies with the Sun the summer night.

Six thousand years amid his lonely bounds

The voice of Ruin, day and night, resounds.

Where Horror-led his sea of ice assails,

Havoc and Chaos blast a thousand vales,

In waves, like two enormous serpents, wind

And drag their length of deluge train behind.

Between the pine's enormous boughs descry'd

Serene he towers, in deepest purple dy'd;

Glad Day-light laughs upon his top of snow,

Glitter the stars above, and all is black below.

At such an hour I heav'd the human sigh,

When roar'd the sullen Arve in anger by,

That

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