Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/211

203 The common air; the hills, which he so oft

Had climb'd with vigorous steps; which had impress'd

So many incidents upon his mind

Of hardship, skill or courage, joy or fear;

Which like a book preserv'd the memory

Of the dumb animals, whom he had sav'd,

Had fed or shelter'd, linking to such acts,

So grateful in themselves, the certainty

Of honorable gains; these fields, these hills

Which were his living Being, even more

Than his own Blood—what could they less? had laid

Strong hold on his affections, were to him

A pleasurable feeling of blind love,

The pleasure which there is in life itself.

He had not passed his days in singleness.

He had a Wife, a comely Matron, old

Though younger than himself full twenty years.

She was a woman of a stirring life