Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/328

302 Of their undrooping Father's widowhood,

Those six fair Daughters, budding yet—not one,

Not one of all the band, a full blown Flower!

Depressed, and desolate of soul, as once

That Father was, and filled with anxious fear,

Now by experience taught, he stands assured,

That God, who takes away, yet takes not half

Of what he seems to take; or gives it back,

Not to our prayer, but far beyond our prayer;

He gives it—the boon produce of a soil

Which our endeavours have refused to till,

And Hope hath never watered. The Abode,

Whose grateful Owner can attest these truths,

Even were the object nearer to our sight

Would seem in no distinction to surpass

The rudest habitations. Ye might think

That it had sprung self-raised from earth, or grown

Out of the living rock, to be adorned

By Nature only; but, if thither led,

Ye would discover, then, a studious work

Of many fancies, prompting many hands.

—Brought from the woods the honeysuckle twines

Around the porch, and seems, in that trim place,