To Wordsworth

Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know That things depart which never may return:

Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow,

Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn.

These common woes I feel.

One loss is mine Which thou too feel'st, yet I alone deplore.

Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine On some frail bark in winter's midnight roar:

Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood Above the blind and battling multitude:

In honoured poverty thy voice did weave Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,— Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,

Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.

Published with Alastor, 1816.