And she was left alone. That very time,

I yet remember, through the miry lane

She walked with me a mile, when the bare trees

440 Trickled with foggy damps, and in such sort

That any heart had ached to hear her begg'd

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

4. The word or was erased here; later manuscripts read 'and.'

 .

290 / WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

445 Did many seasons pass ere I returned

Into this tract again.

Five tedious years

She lingered in unquiet widowhood,

A wife and widow. Needs must it have been

A sore heart-wasting. I have heard, my friend,

450 That in that broken arbour she would sit

The idle length of half a sabbath day?

There, where you see the toadstool's lazy head?

And when a dog passed by she still would quit

The shade and look abroad. On this old Bench

455 For hours she sate, and evermore her eye

Was busy in the distance, shaping things

Which made her heart beat quick. Seest thou that path?

(The green-sward now has broken its grey line)

There to and fro she paced through many a day

460 Of the warm summer, from a belt of flax

That girt her waist spinning the long-drawn thread

With backward steps.?Yet ever as there passed

A man whose garments shewed the Soldier's red,

Or crippled Mendicant in Sailor's garb,

465 The little child who sate to turn the wheel

Ceased from his toil, and she with faltering voice,

Expecting still to learn her husband's fate,

Made many a fond inquiry; and when they

Whose presence gave no comfort were gone by,

470 Her heart was still more sad. And by yon gate

Which bars the traveller's road she often stood

And when a stranger horseman came, the latch

Would lift, and in his face look wistfully,

Most happy if from aught discovered there

475 Of tender feeling she might dare repeat

The same sad question. Meanwhile her poor hut

Sunk to decay, for he was gone whose hand

At the first nippings of October frost

Closed up each chink and with fresh bands of straw

480 Chequered the green-grown thatch. And so she lived

Through the long winter, reckless and alone,

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