NUTTING.

It seems a day,

One of those heavenly days which cannot die,
When forth I sallied from our cottage-door,*
And with a wallet o'er my shoulder slung,
A nutting crook in hand, I turn'd my steps
Towards the distant woods, a Figure quaint,

Trick'd out in proud disguise of Beggar's weeds
Put on for the occasion, by advice

And exhortation of my frugal Dame.

* The house at which I was boarded during the time I

was at School.

Motley accoutrements! of power to smile

At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, and, in truth,
More ragged than need was. Among the woods,
And o'er the pathless rocks, I forc'd my way

Until, at length, I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Droop'd with its wither'd leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation, but the hazels rose

Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung,
A virgin scene!-A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and with wise restraint
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed

The banquet, or beneath the trees I sate
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I play'd;
A temper known to those, who, after long
And weary expectation, have been bless'd

With sudden happiness beyond all hope.-
-Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves
The violets of five seasons re-appear

And fade, unseen by any human eye,
Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
For ever, and I saw the sparkling foam,

And with my cheek on one of those green stones
That, fleec'd with moss, beneath the shady trees,
Lay round me scatter'd like a flock of sheep,
I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Tribute to ease, and, of its joy secure
The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,

And dragg'd to earth both branch and bough, with crash

And merciless ravage; and the shady nook

Of hazels, and the green

and mossy

bower

Deform'd and sullied, patiently gave up.

Their quiet being and unless I now

Confound my present feelings with the past,

Even then, when from the bower I turn'd away,

Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings

I felt a sense of pain when I beheld

The silent trees and the intruding sky.

Then, dearest Maiden! move along these shades

In gentleness of heart with gentle hand

Touch,

for there is a Spirit in the woods.

Three years

she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown ;

This Child I to myself will take,

She shall be mine, and I will make

A Lady of my own.

Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse, and with me

The Girl in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,

Shall feel an overseeing power

To kindle or restrain.