Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/194

172 Through the whole summer have I been at rest,

Partly from voluntary holiday,

And part through outward hindrance. But I heard,

After the hour of sunset yester-even,

Sitting within doors between light and dark,

A choir of redbreasts gathered somewhere near

My threshold,—minstrels from the distant woods

Sent in on Winter's service, to announce,

With preparation artful and benign,

That the rough lord had left the surly North

On his accustomed journey. The delight,

Due to this timely notice, unawares

Smote me, and, listening, I in whispers said,

"Ye heartsome Choristers, ye and I will be

Associates, and, unscared by blustering winds,

Will chant together." Thereafter, as the shades

Of twilight deepened, going forth, I spied

A glow-worm underneath a dusky plume

Or canopy of yet unwithered fern,

Clear-shining, like a hermit's taper seen

Through a thick forest. Silence touched me here

No less than sound had done before; the child

Of Summer, lingering, shining, by herself,

The voiceless worm on the unfrequented hills,

Seemed sent on the same errand with the choir