Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/133

125 With rod and line my silent sport

I plied by Derwent's wave,

And, coming to the church, stopp'd short

Beside my Daughter's grave.

Nine summers had she scarcely seen

The pride of all the vale;

And then she sang!—she would have been

A very nightingale.

Six feet in earth my Emma lay,

And yet I lov'd her more,

For so it seem'd, than till that day

I e'er had lov'd before.

And, turning from her grave, I met

Beside the church-yard Yew

A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet

With points of morning dew.