Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/407

381 Rose the slim ash and massy sycamore,

Blending their diverse foliage with the green

Of ivy, flourishing and thick, that clasped

The huge round chimneys, harbour of delight

For wren and red-breast,—where they sit and sing

Their slender ditties when the trees are bare.

Nor must I pass unnoticed (leaving else

The picture incomplete, as it appeared

Before our eyes) a relique of old times

Happily spared, a little gothic niche

Of nicest workmanship; which once had held

The sculptured Image of some Patron Saint,

Or of the blessed Virgin, looking down

On all who entered those religious doors.

But lo! where from the rocky garden mount

Crowned by its antique summer-house—descends,

Light as the silver fawn, a radiant Girl;

For she hath recognized her honoured Friend,

The Wanderer ever welcome! A prompt kiss

The gladsome Child bestows at his request,

And, up the flowery lawn as we advance,

Hangs on the Old Man with a happy look,