the top of a tree—the sole remaining leaf—danced round and round like a rag blown by the wind.[1]
8th.—Walked in the Park in the morning. I sate under the fir trees. Coleridge came after dinner, so we did not walk again. A foggy morning, but a clear sunny day.
9th.—A clear sunny morning, went to meet Mr. and Mrs. Coleridge. The day very warm.
10th.—Coleridge, Wm., and I walked in the evening to the top of the hill. We all passed the morning in sauntering about the park and gardens, the children playing about, the old man at the top of the hill gathering furze; interesting groups of human creatures, the young frisking and dancing in the sun, the elder quietly drinking in the life and soul of the sun and air.
11th.—A cold day. The children went down towards the sea. William and I walked to the top of the hills above Holford. Met the blacksmith. Pleasant to see the labourer on Sunday jump with the friskiness of a cow upon a sunny day.
12th.—Tom Poole returned with Coleridge to dinner, a brisk, cold, sunny day; did not walk.
13th.—Poole dined with us. William and I strolled into the wood. Coleridge called us into the house. ****** 15th.—I have neglected to set down the occurrences of this week, so I do not recollect how we disposed of ourselves to-day.
16th.—William, and Coleridge, and I walked in the Park a short time. I wrote to ———. William very ill, better in the evening; and we called round by Potsdam.
17th.—I do not remember this day.
18th.—The Coleridges left us. A cold, windy
- ↑ Did this suggest the lines in Christabel?—The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
That dances as often as dance it can,
Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.Ed.
