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The travellers know it not, and 'twill remain
Unknown to them: but it is beautiful;
And if a man should plant his cottage near,
Should sleep beneath the shelter of its trees,
And blend its waters with his daily meal,
He would so love it, that in his death hour
Its image would survive among his thoughts:
And therefore, my sweet MARY, this still Nook,
With all its beeches, we have named from You.

VI.

WHEN, to the attractions of the busy World,
Preferring studious leisure, I had chosen
A habitation in this peaceful Vale,

Sharp season followed of continual storm
In deepest winter; and, from week to week,
Pathway, and lane, and public road, were clogged
With frequent showers of snow. Upon a hill
At a short distance from my Cottage, stands
A stately Fir-grove, whither I was wont
To hasten, for I found, beneath the roof
Of that perennial shade, a cloistral place
Of refuge, with an unincumbered floor.
Here, in safe covert, on the shallow snow,
And, sometimes, on a speck of visible earth,
The redbreast near me hopped; nor was I loth
To sympathise with vulgar coppice Birds

That, for protection from the nipping blast,

Hither repaired.

A single beech-tree grew
Within this grove of firs; and, on the fork

Of that one beech, appeared a thrush's nest;
A last year's nest, conspicuously built
At such small elevation from the ground
As gave sure sign that they, who in that house

Of nature and of love had made their home
Amid the fir-trees, all the summer long

Dwelt in a tranquil spot. And oftentimes,

A few sheep, stragglers from some mountain-flock, Would watch my motions with suspicious stare,

From the remotest outskirts of the

grove,

Some nook where they had made their final stand, Huddling together from two fears — the fear

Of me and of the storm. Full many an hour
Here did I lose. But in this grove the trees
Had been so thickly planted, and had thriven
In such perplexed and intricate array,

That vainly did I seek, between their stems,
A length of open space, where to and fro
My feet might move without concern or care
And, baffled thus, before the storm relaxed,

I ceased the shelter to frequent, and prized,

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Less than I wished to prize, that calm recess.

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The snows dissolved, and genial Spring returned
To clothe the fields with verdure. Other haunts
Meanwhile were mine; till, one bright April day,
By chance retiring from the glare of noon
To this forsaken covert, there I found

A hoary path-way traced between the trees,
And winding on with such an easy line

Along a natural opening, that I stood

Much wondering how I could have sought in vain
For what was now so obvious. To abide,
For an allotted interval of ease,

Beneath my cottage roof, had newly come
From the wild sea a cherished Visitant;

And with the sight of this same path — begun,

Begun and ended, in the shady grove,
Pleasant conviction flashed upon my mind
That, to this opportune recess allured,

He had surveyed it with a finer eye,

A heart more wakeful; and had worn the track
By pacing here, unwearied and alone,

In that habitual restlessness of foot

With which the Sailor measures o'er and o'er
His short domain upon the vessel's deck,
While she is travelling through the dreary sea.

When thou hadst quitted Esthwaite's pleasant shore, And taken thy first leave of those green hills And rocks that were the play-ground of thy Youth, Year followed year, my Brother! and we two, Conversing not, knew little in what mould

Each other's minds were fashioned; and at length, When once again we met in Grasmere Vale, Between us there was little other bond

Than common feelings of fraternal love.

But thou, a School-boy, to the sea hadst carried
Undying recollections; Nature there

Was with thee; she, who loved us both, she still
Was with thee; and even so didst thou become
A silent Poet; from the solitude

Of the vast sea didst bring a watchful heart
Still couchant, an inevitable ear,

And an eye practised like a blind man's touch.
- Back to the joyless Ocean thou art gone;
Nor from this vestige of thy musing hours
Could I withhold thy honoured name,

I love the fir-grove with a perfect love.

and now

Thither do I withdraw when cloudless suns

Shine hot, or wind blows troublesome and strong:

And there I sit at evening, when the steep

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