Page:The Recluse, Wordsworth, 1888.djvu/25

Rh And wondering at its new inhabitants.

It loves us now, this Vale so beautiful

Begins to love us! by a sullen storm,

Two months unwearied of severest storm,

It put the temper of our minds to proof,

And found us faithful through the gloom, and heard

The poet mutter his prelusive songs

With cheerful heart, an unknown voice of joy

Among the silence of the woods and hills;

Silent to any gladsomeness of sound

With all their shepherds.

But the gates of Spring

Are opened; churlish winter hath given leave

That she should entertain for this one day,

Perhaps for many genial days to come,