Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/187

135 The pony, Betty, and her boy,

Wind slowly through the woody dale;

And who is she, be-times abroad,

That hobbles up the steep rough road?

Who is it, but old Susan Gale?

Long Susan lay deep lost in thought,

And many dreadful fears beset her,

Both for her messenger and nurse;

And as her mind grew worse and worse,

Her body it grew better.

She turned, she toss'd herself in bed,

On all sides doubts and terrors met her;

Point after point did she discuss;

And while her mind was fighting thus,

Her body still grew better.