Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/392

332 That errand-bound 'Prentice was passing in haste—

What matter! he's caught—and his time runs to waste—

The News-man is stopped, though he stops on the fret,

And the half-breathless Lamp-lighter he's in the net!

The Porter sits down on the weight which he bore;

The Lass with her barrow wheels hither her store;—

If a Thief could be here he might pilfer at ease;

She sees the Musician, 'tis all that she sees!

He stands, back'd by the Wall;—he abates not his din;

His hat gives him vigour, with boons dropping in,

From the Old and the Young, from the Poorest; and there!

The one-pennied Boy has his penny to spare.

O blest are the Hearers, and proud be the Hand

Of the pleasure it spreads through so thankful a Band;

I am glad for him, blind as he is!—all the while

If they speak 'tis to praise, and they praise with a smile.

That tall Man, a Giant in bulk and in height,

Not an inch of his body is free from delight;

Can he keep himself still, if he would? oh, not he!

The music stirs in him like wind through a tree.