Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/93

41 V.

Ah me! what lovely tints are there!

Of olive green and scarlet bright,

In spikes, in branches, and in stars,

Green, red, and pearly white.

This heap of earth o'ergrown with moss,

Which close beside the thorn you see,

So fresh in all its beauteous dyes,

Is like an infant's grave in size

As like as like can be:

But never, never any where,

An infant's grave was half so fair.

VI.

Now would you see this aged thorn,

This pond and beauteous hill of moss,

You must take care and chuse your time

The mountain when to cross.

For oft there sits, between the heap