Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/358

298 That pauses of deep silence mocked his skill,

Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung

Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise

Has carried far into his heart the voice

Of mountain torrents; or the visible scene

Would enter unawares into his mind

With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,

Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received

Into the bosom of the steady lake.

This Boy was taken from his Mates, and died

In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old.

Fair are the woods, and beauteous is the spot,

The Vale where he was born: the Church-yard hangs

Upon a slope above the village-school;

And there, along that bank, when I have passed

At evening, I believe, that oftentimes

A long half-hour together I have stood

Mute—looking at the grave in which he lies!