Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/153

101 LINES

Written when sailing in a Boat At EVENING.

How rich the wave, in front, imprest

With evening twilight's summer hues,

While, facing thus the crimson west,

The boat her silent path pursues!

And see how dark the backward stream!

A little moment past, so smiling!

And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,

Some other loiterer beguiling.