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"She shall be sportive as the Fawn That wild with glee across the lawn Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
"The floating Clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the Storm
Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form
By silent sympathy.
"The Stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where Rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
"And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
Here in this happy Dell."
Thus Nature spake-The work was done
How soon my Lucy's race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be.
The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
A snow-white mountain Lamb with a Maiden at its side.
No other sheep were near, the Lamb was all alone,
The Lamb while from her hand he thus his supper took Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure shook.
"Drink, pretty Creature, drink," she said in such a tone That I almost received her heart into my own.
'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a Child of beauty rare! I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair. Now with her empty Can the Maiden turned away; But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay.
Towards the Lamb she looked; and from that shady place
"What ails thee, Young One? What? Why pull so at thy cord?
Is it not well with thee? Well both for bed and board?
"What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart?
Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful thou art: This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no
And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!
"If the Sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen
This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain;
For rain and mountain storms! the like thou need'st not
The rain and storm are things which scarcely can come here.
"Rest, little Young One, rest; thou hast forgot the day
And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.
"He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home :
A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam? A faithful Nurse thou hast, the Dam that did thee yean Upon the mountain tops no kinder could have been.