[Page f.19r]
A Cottage in Grasmere Vale.
. A Fragment.
. A Fragment.
Peaceful our Valley, fair and green
And beautiful her cottages,
Each in its nook, its sheltered Hold
Or guarded by its tuft of trees
Many and beautiful they are
But there is one that I love best,
A lovely shed, in truth, it is,
A Brother of the rest.
[Page f.19v]
Yet when I sit on rock or hill
Down-looking on the valley fair
That cottage with its clustering Trees
Summons my heart: it settles there.
Others there are whose small domain
Of fertile fields and hedgerows green
Might more intice a wanderer’s mind
To wish that there his home had been
Such wish be his! I blame him not;
My fancy is unfettered – wild –
My fancies they perchance are wild;
⟨My fancy is unfettered – wild –
I love that house &c⟩
I love that house because it is
The very mountains’ child.
Fields hath it of its own – green fields
But they are craggy, steep, and bare;
Their fence is of the mountain stone,
And moss and lichen flourish there.
And when the storm comes from the North
It lingers near that pastoral spot,
And, piping through the mossy walls,
It seems delighted with its lot.
And let it take its own delight,
And let it range the pastures bare
Until it reaches that groupe of trees!
– It may not enter there.
[Page f.20r]
A green unfading Grove it is,
Skirted with many a lesser tree
Hazel & holly, beech & oak,
A bright & flourishing company!
Precious the shelter of those trees;
They screen the Cottage that I love;
The sunshine pierces to the roof
And the tall pine-trees tower above!
