To H. C.
William Wordsworth 1770 (Wordsworth House) – 1850 (Cumberland)
SIX YEARS OLD
O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought;
Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel,
And fittest to unutterable thought
The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol;
Thou faery voyager! that dost float
In such clear water, that thy boat
May rather seem
To brood on air than on an earthly stream;
Suspended in a stream as clear as sky,
Where earth and heaven do make one imagery;
O blessed vision! happy child!
Thou art so exquisitely wild,
I think of thee with many fears
For what may be thy lot in future years.
I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest,
Lord of thy house and hospitality;
And Grief, uneasy lover! never rest
But when she sate within the touch of thee.
O too industrious folly!
O vain and causeless melancholy!
Nature will either end thee quite;
Or, lengthening out thy season of delight,
Preserve for thee, by individual right,
A young lamb's heart among the full-grown flocks.
What hast thou to do with sorrow,
Or the injuries of to-morrow?
Thou art a dew-drop, which the morn brings forth,
Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks,
Or to be trailed along the soiling earth;
A gem that glitters while it lives,
And no forewarning gives;
But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife
Slips in a moment out of life.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 30, 2023
- 1:09 min read
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Quick analysis:
Scheme | X ABABCCDDXEFFGGHEHEEEIIIJKKXJXLLMM |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,232 |
Words | 230 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 33 |
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"To H. C." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/42433/to-h.-c.>.
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