Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/145

137 She shall be sportive as the fawn

That wild with glee across the lawn

Or up the mountain springs,

And hers shall be the breathing balm,

And hers the silence and the calm

Of mute insensate things.

The floating clouds their state shall lend

To her, for her the willow bend,

Nor shall she fail to see

Even in the motions of the storm

A beauty that shall mould her form

By silent sympathy.

The stars of midnight shall be dear

To her, and she shall lean her ear

In many a secret place

Where rivulets dance their wayward round,

And beauty born of murmuring sound

Shall pass into her face.