Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/326

318 Look at him—look again! for He

Hath long been of thy Family.

With legs that move not, if they can,

And useless arms, a Trunk of Man,

He sits, and with a vacant eye;

A Sight to make a Stranger sigh!

Deaf, drooping, that is now his doom:

His world is in this single room:

Is this a place for mirth and cheer?

Can merry-making enter here?

The joyous Woman is the Mate

Of Him in that forlorn estate!

He breathes a subterraneous damp;

But bright as Vesper shines her lamp:

He is as mute as Jedborough Tower;

She jocund as it was of yore,

With all its bravery on; in times,

When, all alive with merry chimes,

Upon a sun-bright morn of May,

It roused the Vale to Holiday.

I praise thee, Matron! and thy due

Is praise; heroic praise, and true!

With admiration I behold

Thy gladness unsubdued and bold: