Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/234

174 XXI.

eyes are wild, her head is bare,

The sun has burnt her coal-black hair;

Her eye-brows have a rusty stain,

And she came far from over the main.

She has a Baby on her arm,

Or else she were alone;

And underneath the hay-stack warm,

And on the green-wood stone,

She talked and sung the woods among;

And it was in the English tongue.

"Sweet Babe! they say that I am mad,

But nay, my heart is far too glad;

And I am happy when I sing

Full many a sad and doleful thing:

Then, lovely Baby, do not fear!

I pray thee have no fear of me,

But, safe as in a cradle, here,

My lovely Baby! thou shalt be:

To thee I know too much I owe;

I cannot work thee any woe.