Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/329

303 A Plant no longer wild; the cultured rose

There blossoms, strong in health, and will be soon

Roof-high; the wild pink crowns the garden wall,

And with the flowers are intermingled stones

Sparry and bright, the scatterings of the hills.

These ornaments, that fade not with the year,

A hardy Girl continues to provide;

Who, mounting fearlessly the rocky heights,

Her Father's prompt Attendant, does for him

All that a Boy could do; but with delight

More keen and prouder daring: yet hath she,

Within the garden, like the rest, a bed

For her own flowers and favourite herbs—a space,

By sacred charter, holden for her use.

—These, and whatever else the garden bears

Of fruit or flower, permission asked or not,

I freely gather; and my leisure draws

A not unfrequent pastime from the sight

Of the Bees murmuring round their sheltered hives

In that Enclosure; while the mountain rill,

That sparkling thrids the rocks, attunes his voice

To the pure course of human life, which there

Flows on in solitude from year to year.