Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/367

341 Range round the garden-walk, whose low ground-flowers

Were peeping forth, shy messengers of spring,—

Even at that hopeful time,—the winds of March,

One sunny day, smiting insidiously,

Raised in the tender passage of the throat

Viewless obstruction; whence—all unforewarned,

The Household lost their hope and soul's delight.

—But Providence, that gives and takes away

By his own law, is merciful and just;

Time wants not power to soften all regrets,

And prayer and thought can bring to worst distress

Due resignation. Therefore, though some tears

Fail not to spring from either Parent's eye

Oft as they hear of sorrow like their own,

Yet this departed Little-one, too long

The innocent troubler of their quiet, sleeps

In what may now be called a peaceful grave.

On a bright day, the brightest of the year,

These mountains echoed with an unknown sound,

A volley, thrice repeated o'er the Corse

Let down into the hollow of that Grave,

Whose shelving sides are red with naked mold.