Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/277

269 IV.

girdle of rough stones and crags,

A rude and natural causeway, interposed

Between the water and a winding slope

Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore

Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy.

And there, myself and two beloved Friends,

One calm September morning, ere the mist

Had altogether yielded to the sun,

Sauntered on this retired and difficult way.

Ill suits the road with one in haste, but we

Played with our time; and, as we strolled along,

It was our occupation to observe

Such objects as the waves had tossed ashore,

Feather, or leaf, or weed, or withered bough,

Each on the other heaped along the line

Of the dry wreck. And, in our vacant mood,

Not seldom did we stop to watch some tuft

Of dandelion seed or thistle's beard,