road-side to make a lake. We all stood to look at Glow-worm Rock—a primrose that grew there, and just looked out on the road from its own sheltered bower.[1] The clouds moved, as William observed, in one regular body like a multitude in motion—a sky all clouds over, not one cloud.[2] On our return it broke a little out, and we saw here and there a star. One appeared but for a moment in a pale blue sky.
Sunday, 25th April.—After breakfast we set off with Coleridge towards Keswick. Wilkinson overtook us near the Potter's, and interrupted our discourse. C. got into a gig with Mr. Beck, and drove away from us. A shower came on, but it was soon over. We spent the morning in the orchard reading the Epithalamium of Spenser; walked backwards and forwards. . . .
Monday, 26th.—I copied Wm.'s poems for Coleridge. . . .
Tuesday, 27th.—A fine morning. Mrs. Luff called. I walked with her to the boat-house. William met me at the top of the hill with his fishing-rod in his hand. I turned with him, and we sate on the hill looking to Rydale. I left him, intending to join him, but he came home, and said his loins would not stand the pulling he had had. We sate in the orchard. In the evening W. began to write The Tinker; we had a letter and verses from Coleridge.
Wednesday, 28th April.— . . . I copied The Prioress's Tale. William was in the orchard. I went to him; he worked away at his poem. . . . I happened to say that when I was a child I would not have pulled a strawberry blossom. I left him, and wrote out The Manciple's Tale. At dinner time he came in with the poem of Children gathering Flowers,[3] but it was not quite finished, and it kept him long off his dinner. It is now done. He
