Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/156

104 Such as did once the poet bless,

Who, pouring here a later ditty,

Could find no refuge from distress,

But in the milder grief of pity.

Remembrance! as we float along,

For him suspend the dashing oar,

And pray that never child of Song

May know his freezing sorrows more.

How calm! how still! the only sound,

The dripping of the oar suspended!

—The evening darkness gathers round

By virtue's honest powers attended.