And she who dwells with me, whom I have loved
With such communion, that no place on earth
Can ever be a solitude to me,
Hath said, this lonesome Peak shall bear my name.
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags, A rude and natural causeway, interpos'd Between the water and a winding slope
Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy.
And there, myself and two beloved Friends, One calm September morning, ere the mist Had altogether yielded to the sun,
Sauntered on this retired and difficult way.
-Ill suits the road with one in haste, but we Played with our time; and, as we strolled along, It was our occupation to observe
Such objects as the waves had tossed ashore,
Feather, or leaf, or weed, or withered bough,
Each on the other heaped along the line
Not seldom did we stop to watch some tuft
Of dandelion seed or thistle's beard,
Which, seeming lifeless half, and half impelled By some internal feeling, skimmed along Close to the surface of the lake that lay
Asleep in a dead calm-ran closely on
Along the dead calm lake, now here, now there,
In all its sportive wanderings all the while Making report of an invisible breeze
That was its wings, its chariot, and its horse, Its very playmate, and its moving soul.
-And often, trifling with a privilege
Alike indulged to all, we paused, one now, And now the other, to point out, perchance To pluck, some flower or water-weed, too fair Either to be divided from the place
On which it grew, or to be left alone
To its own beauty. Many such there are,
Fair Ferns and Flowers, and chiefly that tall Fern So stately, of the Queen Osmunda named ; Plant lovelier in its own retired abode
On Grasmere's beach, than Naiad by the side Of Grecian brook, or Lady of the Mere Sole-sitting by the shores of old Romance.
-So fared we that sweet morning: from the fields, Meanwhile, a noise was heard, the busy mirth Of Reapers, Men and Women, Boys and Girls. Delighted much to listen to those sounds, And, in the fashion which I have described, Feeding unthinking fancies, we advanced Along the indented shore; when suddenly, Through a thin veil of glittering haze, we saw Before us on a point of jutting land
The tall and upright figure of a Man
Attired in peasant's garb, who stood alone
Angling beside the margin of a lake.
That way we turned our steps; nor was it long Ere, making ready comments on the sight Which then we saw, with one and the same voice
We all cried out, that he must be indeed
An idle man, who thus could lose a day Of the mid harvest, when the labourer's hire Is ample, and some little might be stored Wherewith to cheer him in the winter time. Thus talking of that Peasant we approached Close to the spot where with his rod and line He stood alone; whereat he turned his head To greet us and we saw a man worn down By sickness, gaunt and lean, with sunken cheeks And wasted limbs, his legs so long and lean That for my single self I looked at them, Forgetful of the body they sustained.— Too weak to labour in the harvest field, The Man was using his best skill to gain
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