Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/143

117 Or, for confession, in the sinner's need,

Hidden from all Men's view. To our attempt

He yielded not; but, pointing to a slope

Of mossy turf, defended from the sun;

And, on that couch inviting us to rest,

Towards that tender-hearted Man he turned

A serious eye, and thus his speech renewed.

"You never saw, your eyes did never look

On the bright Form of Her whom once I loved.—

Her silver voice was heard upon the earth,

A sound unknown to you; else, honored Friend,

Your heart had borne a pitiable share

Of what I suffered, when I wept that loss,

And suffer now, not seldom, from the thought

That I remember, and can weep no more.—

Stripped as I am of all the golden fruit

Of self-esteem; and by the cutting blasts

Of self-reproach familiarly assailed;

I would not yet be of such wintry bareness,

But that some leaf of your regard should hang

Upon my naked branches:—lively thoughts

Give birth, full often, to unguarded words;