Lyrical Ballads, with other poems, by William Wordsworth

A whirl-blast from behind the Hill, &c.

A whirl-blast from behind the hill

Rush’d o’er the wood with startling sound:

Then all at once the air was still,

And showers of hail-stones patter’d round.

Where leafless Oaks tower’d high above,

I sate within an undergrove

Of tallest hollies, tall and green,

A fairer bower was never seen.

From year to year the spacious floor

With wither’d leaves is cover’d o’er,

You could not lay a hair between:

And all the year the bower is green.

But see! where’er the hailstones drop

The wither’d leaves all skip and hop,

There’s not a breeze — no breath of air —

Yet here, and there, and every where

Along the floor, beneath the shade

By those embowering hollies made,

The leaves in myriads jump and spring,

As if with pipes and music rare

Some Robin Good-fellow were there,

And all those leaves, that jump and spring,

Were each a joyous, living thing.

Oh! grant me Heaven a heart at ease

That I may never cease to find,

Even in appearances like these

Enough to nourish and to stir my mind!

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 12:02