Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/178

170 There's freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare

Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she's there.

There's virtue, the title it surely may claim,

Yet wants, heaven knows what, to be worthy the name.

What a picture! 'tis drawn without nature or art,

—Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart,

And I for five centuries right gladly would be

Such an odd, such a kind happy creature as he.