Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/68

60 You are preparing as before

To deck your slender shape;

And yet, just three years back—no more—

You had a strange escape.

Down from yon Cliff a fragment broke,

It came, you know, with fire and smoke

And hither did it bend its way.

This pond'rous block was caught by me,

And o'er your head, as you may see,

'Tis hanging to this day.

The Thing had better been asleep,

Whatever thing it were,

Or Breeze, or Bird, or fleece of Sheep,

That first did plant you there.

For you and your green twigs decoy

The little witless Shepherd-boy

To come and slumber in your bower;

And trust me, on some sultry noon,

Both you and he, Heaven knows how soon!

Will perish in one hour.