Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/18

10 You see these lifeless stumps of aspin wood,

Some say that they are beeches, others elms,

These were the Bower; and here a Mansion stood,

The finest palace of a hundred realms.

The arbour does its own condition tell,

You see the stones, the fountain, and the stream,

But as to the great Lodge, you might as well

Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.

There's neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep,

Will wet his lips within that cup of stone;

And, oftentimes, when all are fast asleep,

This water doth send forth a dolorous groan.

Some say that here a murder has been done,

And blood cries out for blood: but, for my part,

I've guess'd, when I've been sitting in the sun,

That it was all for that unhappy Hart.