Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/70

44 Of sorrow. Yet I saw the idle loom

Still in its place; his Sunday garments hung

Upon the self-same nail; his very staff

Stood undisturbed behind the door. And when,

In bleak December, I retraced this way,

She told me that her little Babe was dead,

And she was left alone. She now, released

From her maternal cares, had taken up

The employment common through these Wilds, and gain'd

By spinning hemp a pittance for herself;

And for this end had hired a neighbour's Boy

To give her needful help. That very time

Most willingly she put her work aside,

And walked with me along the miry road

Heedless how far; and, in such piteous sort

That any heart had ached to hear her, begged

That, wheresoe'er I went, I still would ask

For him whom she had lost. We parted then,

Our final parting; for from that time forth

Did many seasons pass ere I return'd

Into this tract again.

Nine tedious years;

From their first separation, nine long years,