Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/146

138 And vital feelings of delight

Shall rear her form to stately height,

Her virgin bosom swell,

Such thoughts to Lucy I will give

While she and I together live

Here in this happy dell.

Thus Nature spake—The work was done—

How soon my Lucy's race was run!

She died and left to me

This heath, this calm and quiet scene,

The memory of what has been,

And never more will be.