Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/102

50 A jutting crag, and off I ran,

Head-foremost, through the driving rain,

The shelter of the crag to gain,

And, as I am a man,

Instead of jutting crag, I found

A woman seated on the ground.

XIX.

I did not speak—I saw her face,

In truth it was enough for me;

I turned about and heard her cry,

"O misery! O misery!"

And there she sits, until the moon

Through half the clear blue sky will go,

And when the little breezes make

The waters of the pond to shake,

As all the country know,

She shudders, and you hear her cry,

"Oh misery! oh misery!