Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/260

200 The Pony, Betty, and her Boy,

Wind slowly through the woody dale;

And who is she, betimes abroad,

That hobbles up the steep rough road?

Who is it, but old Susan Gale?

Long Susan lay deep lost in thought,

And many dreadful fears beset her,

Both for her Messenger and Nurse;

And as her mind grew worse and worse,

Her body it grew better.

She turned, she tossed herself in bed,

On all sides doubts and terrors met her;

Point after point did she discuss;

And while her mind was fighting thus,

Her body still grew better.

"Alas! what is become of them?

These fears can never be endured,

I'll to the wood."—The word scarce said,

Did Susan rise up from her bed,

As if by magic cured.