Rydal Vale
2.
Thou wilt be long in reaching home, my love!
If thou dost tarry all the joys to take,
Crowded this evening about Rydal lake, —
The new-born lambs, the flowers, the cooing dove.
Nay, wherefore grasp thy daffodils so fast?
I am not one to rob thee: thou hast wrought
So deeply in my heart that thou hast brought
Sweet gifts of tears unto me from the past.
My sainted Mother! was I once like this,
A creature overflowed with simple bliss,
One whom thou might'st have seen by these bright rills
Long years ago when thou wert in this place,
Stooping to cool his little health-flushed face,
So wondrous happy with his daffodils?
Thou wilt be long in reaching home, my love!
If thou dost tarry all the joys to take,
Crowded this evening about Rydal lake, —
The new-born lambs, the flowers, the cooing dove.
Nay, wherefore grasp thy daffodils so fast?
I am not one to rob thee: thou hast wrought
So deeply in my heart that thou hast brought
Sweet gifts of tears unto me from the past.
My sainted Mother! was I once like this,
A creature overflowed with simple bliss,
One whom thou might'st have seen by these bright rills
Long years ago when thou wert in this place,
Stooping to cool his little health-flushed face,
So wondrous happy with his daffodils?
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