Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/320

260 Her voice was blithe, her heart was light;

The Broom might have pursued

Her speech, until the stars of night

Their journey had renewed.

But in the branches of the Oak

Two Ravens now began to croak

Their nuptial song, a gladsome air;

And to her own green bower the breeze

That instant brought two stripling Bees

To rest and murmur there.

One night, my Children! from the North

There came a furious blast;

At break of day I ventured forth,

And near the Cliff I passed.

The storm had fallen upon the Oak

And struck him with a mighty stroke,

And whirled and whirled him far away;

And in one hospitable Cleft

The little careless Broom was left

To live for many a day.