No More Learning

Oft I had heard [1] of Lucy Gray:
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; 5
She dwelt on a wide moor, [2]
--The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green; 10
But the sweet [3] face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

"To-night will be a stormy night--
You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, Child, to light 15
Your mother through the snow. "

"That, Father! will I gladly do:
'Tis scarcely afternoon--
The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon! " 20

At this the Father raised his hook,
And snapped [4] a faggot-band;
He plied his work;--and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe: 25
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.

The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down; 30
And many a hill did Lucy climb
But never reached the town.

The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight 35
To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
A furlong from their door. 40

They wept--and, turning homeward, cried, [5]
"In heaven we all shall meet;"
--When in the snow the mother spied [6]
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downwards [7] from the steep hill's edge 45
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedge,
And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crossed:
The marks were still the same; 50
They tracked them on, nor ever lost;
And [8] to the bridge they came.

They followed from the snowy bank
Those [9] footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank; 55
And further there were [10] none!

--Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living child;
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild.
60

O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind. [A]




This poem was illustrated by Sir George Beaumont, in a picture of some
merit, which was engraved by J. C. Bromley, and published in the
collected editions of 1815 and 1820. Henry Crabb Robinson wrote in his
'Diary', September 11, 1816 (referring to Wordsworth):

"He mentioned the origin of some poems. 'Lucy Gray', that tender and
pathetic narrative of a child lost on a common, was occasioned by the
death of a child who fell into the lock of a canal. His object was to
exhibit poetically entire 'solitude', and he represents the child as
observing the day-moon, which no town or village girl would ever
notice. "

A contributor to 'Notes and Queries', May 12, 1883, whose signature is
F. , writes:

"THE SCENE OF 'LUCY GRAY'. --In one of the editions of Wordsworth's
works the scene of this ballad is said to have been near Halifax, in
Yorkshire. I do not think the poet was acquainted with the locality
beyond a sight of the country in travelling through on some journey. I
know of no spot where all the little incidents mentioned in the poem
would exactly fit in, and a few of the local allusions are evidently
by a stranger. There is no 'minster'; the church at Halifax from time
immemorial has always been known as the 'parish church,' and sometimes
as the 'old church,' but has never been styled 'the minster. ' The
'mountain roe,' which of course may be brought in as poetically
illustrative, has not been seen on these hills for generations, and I
scarcely think even the 'fawn at play' for more than a hundred years.
These misapplications, it is almost unnecessary to say, do not detract
from the beauty of the poetry. Some of the touches are graphically
true to the neighbourhood, as, for instance, 'the wide moor,' the
'many a hill,' the 'steep hill's edge,' the 'long stone wall,' and the
hint of the general loneliness of the region where Lucy 'no mate, no
comrade, knew.