Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/217

165 III.

So past a weary time; each throat

Was parch'd, and glaz'd each eye,

When, looking westward, I beheld

A something in the sky.

At first it seem'd a little speck

And then it seem'd a mist:

It mov'd and mov'd, and took at last

A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!

And still it ner'd and ner'd;

And, as if it dodg'd a water-sprite,

It plung'd and tack'd and veer'd.