Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/139

131 And, Matthew, for thy Children dead

I'll be a son to thee!"

At this he grasp'd his hands, and said,

"Alas! that cannot be."

We rose up from the fountain-side,

And down the smooth descent

Of the green sheep-track did we glide,

And through the wood we went,

And, ere we came to Leonard's Rock,

He sang those witty rhymes

About the crazy old church-clock

And the bewilder'd chimes.