DEDICATION.
Dear Fellow-Travellers! think not that the Muse
Presents to notice these memorial Lays,
Hoping the general eye thereon will gaze,
As on a mirror that gives back the hues
Of living Nature; no—though free to chuse
The greenest bowers, the most inviting ways,
The fairest landscapes and the brightest days,
She felt too deeply what her skill must lose.
For You she wrought;—ye only can supply
The life, the truth, the beauty: she confides
In that enjoyment which with you abides,
Trusts to your love and vivid memory;
Thus far contented that for You her verse
Shall lack not power the "meeting soul to pierce!"
Presents to notice these memorial Lays,
Hoping the general eye thereon will gaze,
As on a mirror that gives back the hues
Of living Nature; no—though free to chuse
The greenest bowers, the most inviting ways,
The fairest landscapes and the brightest days,
She felt too deeply what her skill must lose.
For You she wrought;—ye only can supply
The life, the truth, the beauty: she confides
In that enjoyment which with you abides,
Trusts to your love and vivid memory;
Thus far contented that for You her verse
Shall lack not power the "meeting soul to pierce!"
W. WORDSWORTH.
Rydal Mount,
January, 1822.
