XXXVII. STRANGE Visitation! at Jemima's lip Thus hadst thou pecked, wild Redbreast! Love might say, A half-blown rose had tempted thee to sip Its glistening dews; but hallowed is the clay Which the Muse warms; and I, whose head is grey, Am not unworthy of thy fellowship; Nor could I let one thought-one motion That might thy sylvan confidence betray. slip For are we not all His, without whose care XXXVIII. WHEN Philoctetes in the Lemnian Isle Lay couched; upon that breathless Monument, On him, or on his fearful bow unbent, Some wild Bird oft might settle, and beguile Nor doubt that spiritual Creatures round us move, XXXIX. WHILE they, her Playmates once, light-hearted tread The mountain turf and river's flowery marge; Or float with music in the festal barge; Rein the proud steed, or through the dance are led; Is Anna doomed to press a weary bed Till oft her guardian Angel, to some Charge More urgent called, will stretch his wings at large, And Friends too rarely prop the languid head. Yet Genius is no feeble comforter: The presence even of a stuffed Owl for her Though he can neither stir a plume, nor shout, XL. TO THE CUCKOO. Nor the whole warbling grove in concert heard The Captive, 'mid damp vaults unsunned, unaired, That cry can reach; and to the sick man's room UNQUIET Childhood here by special grace |