I. THERE WAS A BOY. THERE was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him.—And they would shout Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received This Boy was taken from his mates, and died In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old. Fair are the woods and beauteous is the spot, The vale where he was born: the church-yard hangs Upon a slope above the village-school; And, through that church-yard when my way has led A long half-hour together I have stood 1799. II. TO THE CUCKOO. O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard, O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, That seems to fill the whole air's space, As loud far off as near. Though babbling only to the Vale, Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days Which made me look a thousand ways To seek thee did I often rove And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain That golden time again. O blessed Bird! the earth we pace An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for Thee! 1804. |