Page:Peter Bell (Wordsworth).djvu/84

68 For she had learn'd how Peter liv'd,

And took it in most grievous part;

She to the very bone was worn,

And, ere that little child was born,

Died of a broken heart.

And now the Spirits of the Mind

Are busy with poor Peter Bell;

Distraction reigns in soul and sense,

And reason drops in impotence

From her deserted pinnacle!

Close by a brake of flowering furze

(Above it shivering aspins play)

He sees an unsubstantial creature,

His very self in form and feature,

Not four yards from the broad highway;