Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/68

8 During a boisterous Winter Evening.

By a female Friend of the Author.

way does the Wind come? What way does he go?

He rides over the water, and over the snow,

Through wood, and through vale; and o'er rocky height

Which the goat cannot climb takes his sounding flight.

He tosses about in every bare tree,

As, if you look up, you plainly may see;

But how he will come, and whither he goes

There's never a Scholar in England knows.

He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook,

And rings a sharp larum;—but if you should look

There's nothing to see but a cushion of snow

Round as a pillow, and whiter than milk,

And softer than if it were covered with silk.