WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Lucy
^TRANCE fits of passion have I known:
And I will dare to tell, But in the lover's ear alone, What once to me befell.
When she I loved look'd every day
Fresh as a rose in June, I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath an evening moon.
Upon the moon I fix'd my eye,
All over the wide lea; With quickening pace my horse drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.
And now we reach 'd the orchard-plot;
And, as we climb'd the hill, The sinking moon to Lucy's cot
Came near and nearer still.
In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature's gentlest boon' And all the while my eyes I kept
On the descending moon.
My hone moved on , hoof after hoof
He raised, and never stopp'd: When down behind the cottage roof,
At once, the bright moon dropp'd.
�� �
