Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/104

52 And fix on it a steady view,

The shadow of a babe you trace,

A baby and a baby's face,

And that it looks at you;

Whene'er you look on it, 'tis plain

The baby looks at you again.

XXII.

And some had sworn an oath that she

Should be to public justice brought;

And for the little infant's bones

With spades they would have sought.

But then the beauteous hill of moss

Before their eyes began to stir;

And for full fifty yards around,

The grass it shook upon the ground;

But all do still aver

The little babe is buried there.

Beneath that hill of moss so fair.