as he now and then pushes his book forward, and turns over a leaf. . . .
Wednesday.—It was a beautiful spring morning, warm, and quiet with mists. We found a letter from M. H. I made a vow that we would not leave this country for G. Hill.[1] . . . William altered The Butterfly as we came from Rydale. . . .
Thursday.— . . . No letter from Coleridge.
Friday.— . . . William wrote to Annette, then worked at The Cuckoo. . . . After dinner I sate 2 hours in the orchard. William and I walked together after tea, to the top of White Moss. I left Wm. and while he was absent I wrote out poems. I grew alarmed, and went to seek him. I met him at Mr. Olliff's. He has been trying, without success, to alter a passage—his Silver How poem. He had written a conclusion just before he went out. While I was getting into bed, he wrote The Rainbow.
Saturday.—A divine morning. At breakfast William wrote part of an ode. . . . We sate all day in the orchard.
Sunday.—We went to Keswick. Arrived wet to the skin. . . .
Monday.—Wm. and C. went to Armathwaite.
Tuesday, 30th March.—We went to Calvert's.
Wednesday, 31st March.— . . . We walked to Portinscale, lay upon the turf, and looked into the Vale of Newlands; up to Borrowdale, and down to Keswick—a soft Venetian view. Calvert and Wilkinsons dined with us. I walked with Mrs. W. to the Quaker's meeting, met Wm., and we walked in the field together.
Thursday, 1st April.—Mrs. C, Wm. and I went to the How. We came home by Portinscale.
Friday, 2nd.—Wm. and I sate all the morning in the field.
- ↑ Gallow Hill, Yorkshire.—Ed.
