storm. 'The body however was found in the canal. century for his long poem The Village. Cf. Words-
The way in which the incident was treated and the worth's discussion, in the Preface to Lyrical Bal
spiritualizing of the character might furnish hints lads, of how he had aimed in those poems to throw
for contrasting the imaginative influences which I over ordinary things 'a certain colouring of imag
have endeavored to throw over common life with ination' (p. 264).
.
278 / WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen. 'To-night will be a stormy night?
You to the town must go;
15 And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your mother through the snow.' 'That, Father! will I gladly do:
'Tis scarcely afternoon?
The minster?-clock has just struck two, church
20 And yonder is the moon!' At this the Father raised his hook,
And snapped a faggot-band2
He plied his work;?and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand. 25 Not blither is the mountain roe:? deer
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time:
30 She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb:
But never reached the town. The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
35 But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide. At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
40 A furlong3 from their door. They wept?and, turning homeward, cried,
'In heaven we all shall meet;'
?When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet. 45 Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedge,
And by the long stone-wall; And then an open field they crossed:
50 The marks were still the same;
2. Cord binding a bundle of sticks to be used for 3. One eighth of a mile. fuel.
.
NUTTIN G / 27 9 They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came. 55They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none! 60-?Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. 1799 1800
Nutting1
It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
5 I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth With a huge wallet0 o'er my shoulder slung, bag, knapsack A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps
Tow'rd some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint,
