When from these lofty
thoughts
I woke,
"What is it," said I, "that you bear,
Beneath the covert of your Cloak, 15
Protected from this cold damp air?
"What is it," said I, "that you bear,
Beneath the covert of your Cloak, 15
Protected from this cold damp air?
William Wordsworth
.
it was uninteresting, and must be altered.
"
Similar records occur each day in the Journal from the 10th to the 14th
Feb. 1802. --Ed.
* * * * *
THE SAILOR'S MOTHER
Composed March 11th and 12th, 1802. --Published 1807
[Written in Town-end, Grasmere. I met this woman near the Wishing-gate,
on the high road that then led from Grasmere to Ambleside. Her
appearance was exactly as here described, and such was her account,
nearly to the letter. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections. "--Ed.
One morning (raw it was and wet--
A foggy day in winter time)
A Woman on [1] the road I met,
Not old, though something past her prime:
Majestic in her person, tall and straight; 5
And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait.
The ancient spirit is not dead;
Old times, thought I, are breathing there;
Proud was I that my country bred
Such strength, a dignity so fair: 10
She begged an alms, like one in poor estate;
I looked at her again, nor did my pride abate.
When from these lofty thoughts I woke,
"What is it," said I, "that you bear,
Beneath the covert of your Cloak, 15
Protected from this cold damp air? " [2]
She answered, soon as she the question heard,
"A simple burthen, Sir, a little Singing-bird. "
And, thus continuing, she said,
"I had a Son, who many a day 20
Sailed on the seas, but he is dead; [3]
In Denmark he was cast away:
And I have travelled weary miles to see
If aught which he had owned might still remain for me. [4]
"The bird and cage they both were his: 25
'Twas my Son's bird; and neat and trim
He kept it: many voyages
The singing-bird had gone [5] with him;
When last he sailed, he left the bird behind;
From bodings, as might be, that hung upon his mind. [6] 30
"He to a fellow-lodger's care
Had left it, to be watched and fed,
And pipe its song in safety;--there [7]
I found it when my Son was dead;
And now, God help me for my little wit! 35
I bear [8] it with me, Sir;--he took so much delight in it. "
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1815.
. . . in . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1836.
.
Similar records occur each day in the Journal from the 10th to the 14th
Feb. 1802. --Ed.
* * * * *
THE SAILOR'S MOTHER
Composed March 11th and 12th, 1802. --Published 1807
[Written in Town-end, Grasmere. I met this woman near the Wishing-gate,
on the high road that then led from Grasmere to Ambleside. Her
appearance was exactly as here described, and such was her account,
nearly to the letter. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections. "--Ed.
One morning (raw it was and wet--
A foggy day in winter time)
A Woman on [1] the road I met,
Not old, though something past her prime:
Majestic in her person, tall and straight; 5
And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait.
The ancient spirit is not dead;
Old times, thought I, are breathing there;
Proud was I that my country bred
Such strength, a dignity so fair: 10
She begged an alms, like one in poor estate;
I looked at her again, nor did my pride abate.
When from these lofty thoughts I woke,
"What is it," said I, "that you bear,
Beneath the covert of your Cloak, 15
Protected from this cold damp air? " [2]
She answered, soon as she the question heard,
"A simple burthen, Sir, a little Singing-bird. "
And, thus continuing, she said,
"I had a Son, who many a day 20
Sailed on the seas, but he is dead; [3]
In Denmark he was cast away:
And I have travelled weary miles to see
If aught which he had owned might still remain for me. [4]
"The bird and cage they both were his: 25
'Twas my Son's bird; and neat and trim
He kept it: many voyages
The singing-bird had gone [5] with him;
When last he sailed, he left the bird behind;
From bodings, as might be, that hung upon his mind. [6] 30
"He to a fellow-lodger's care
Had left it, to be watched and fed,
And pipe its song in safety;--there [7]
I found it when my Son was dead;
And now, God help me for my little wit! 35
I bear [8] it with me, Sir;--he took so much delight in it. "
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1815.
. . . in . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1836.
.
