No More Learning

And treading among flowers of joy,
That at no season fade, 1827. ]


[Variant 3:

1815.

. . . alive . . . 1802. ]


* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: For the original title of this poem,--as published in 'The
Morning Post and Gazetteer',--see the note to the previous poem. When
first published it was unsigned. --Ed. ]


See the editorial note to the preceding poem. --Ed.





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1803


The poems associated with the year 1803 consist mainly of the "Memorials
of a Tour in Scotland," which Wordsworth and his sister took--along with
Coleridge--in the autumn of that year, although many of these were not
written till some time after the Tour was finished.
'The Green Linnet'
and 'Yew-trees' were written in 1803, and some sonnets were composed in
the month of October; but, on the whole, 1803 was not a fruitful year in
Wordsworth's life, as regards his lyrics and smaller poems. Doubtless
both 'The Prelude' and 'The Excursion' were revised in 1803. --Ed.





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THE GREEN LINNET


Composed 1803. --Published 1807


[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere, where the bird was often
seen as here described. --I. F. ]

One of the "Poems of the Fancy. "--Ed.




Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow white blossoms on my head,
With brightest sunshine round me spread
Of spring's unclouded weather,
In this sequestered nook how sweet 5
To sit upon my orchard-seat!
And birds and flowers once more to greet,
My last year's friends together. [1]

One have I marked, the happiest guest
In all this covert of the blest: 10
Hail to Thee, far above the rest
In joy of voice and pinion!
Thou, Linnet! in thy green array,
Presiding Spirit here to-day,
Dost lead the revels of the May; 15
And this is thy dominion.

While birds, and butterflies, and flowers,
Make all one band of paramours,
Thou, ranging up and down the bowers,
Art sole in thy employment: 20
A Life, a Presence like the Air,
Scattering thy gladness without care,
Too blest with any one to pair;
Thyself thy own enjoyment.

Amid [2] yon tuft of hazel trees, 25
That twinkle to the gusty breeze,
Behold him perched in ecstacies,
Yet seeming still to hover;
There!