William Wordsworth

Nutting

from Lyrical Ballads (Volume II, 1800)


		It seems a day,
		(I speak of one from many singled out)
		One of those heavenly days which cannot die,
		When forth I sallied from our cottage-door,¹
5		And with a wallet o'er my shoulder slung,
		A nutting crook in hand, I turn'd my steps
		Towards the distant woods, a Figure quaint,
		Trick'd out in proud disguise of Beggar's weeds
		Put on for the occasion, by advice
10		And exhortation of my frugal Dame.
		Motley accoutrements! of power to smile
		At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, and, in truth,
		More ragged than need was. Among the woods,
		And o'er the pathless rocks, I forc'd my way
15		Until, at length, I came to one dear nook
		Unvisited, where not a broken bough
		Droop'd with its wither'd leaves, ungracious sign
		Of devastation, but the hazels rose
		Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung,
20		A virgin scene!-A little while I stood,
		Breathing with such suppression of the heart
		As joy delights in; and with wise restraint
		Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
		The banquet, or beneath the trees I sate
25		Among the flowers, and with the flowers I play'd;
		A temper known to those, who, after long
		And weary expectation, have been bless'd
		With sudden happiness beyond all hope.-
		-Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves
30		The violets of five seasons re-appear
		And fade, unseen by any human eye,
		Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
		For ever, and I saw the sparkling foam,
		And with my cheek on one of those green stones
35		That, fleec'd with moss, beneath the shady trees,
		Lay round me scatter'd like a flock of sheep,
		I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
		In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
		Tribute to ease, and, of its joy secure
40		The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
		Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
		And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,
		And dragg'd to earth both branch and bough, with crash
		And merciless ravage; and the shady nook
45		Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower
		Deform'd and sullied, patiently gave up
		Their quiet being: and unless I now
		Confound my present feelings with the past,
		Even then, when, from the bower I turn'd away,
50		Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings
		I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
		The silent trees and the intruding sky. -

		Then, dearest Maiden! move along these shades
		In gentleness of heart with gentle hand
55		Touch, - for there is a Spirit in the woods.


		¹ The house at which I was boarded during the time I was at School.

First published 1800

Robert Clark

William Wordsworth

Nutting

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