This morning, timely rapt with holy fire,
I thought to form unto my zealous Muse What kind of creature I could most desire,
To honour, serve, and love; as poets use
I meant to make her fair, and free, and wise,
She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove,
Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye
—-Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky...
Look not thou on beauty's charming; Sit thou still when kings are arming; Taste not when the wine-cup glistens; Speak not when the people listens; Stop thine ear against the singer; From the red gold keep thy finger; Vacant heart and hand and eye,...
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray,
And when I cross'd the Wild,
I chanc'd to see at break of
The solitary Child