No More Learning

This being
said, Mr. Montgomery will not think any apology due to him; I cannot
however help addressing him in the words of the Father of English Poets:

'Though it happe me to rehersin--
That ye han in your freshe songis saied,
Forberith me, and beth not ill apaied,
Sith that ye se I doe it in the honour
Of Love, and eke in service of the Flour. '

W. W. 1807.

In the edition of 1836, the following variation of the text of this note
occurs: "There is a resemblance to passages in a Poem. "--Ed. ]



For illustration of the last stanza, see Chaucer's Prologue to 'The
Legend of Good Women'.

'As I seyde erst, whanne comen is the May,
That in my bed ther daweth me no day,
That I nam uppe and walkyng in the mede,
To seen this floure agein the sonne sprede,
Whan it up rysith erly by the morwe;
That blisful sight softneth al my sorwe,
So glad am I, whan that I have presence
Of it, to doon it alle reverence,
As she that is of alle floures flour. '
. . .
To seen this flour so yong, so fresshe of hewe,
Constreynde me with so gredy desire,
That in myn herte I feele yet the fire,
That made me to ryse er yt wer day,
And this was now the firste morwe of May,
With dredful hert, and glad devocioun
For to ben at the resurreccion
Of this flour, whan that yt shulde unclose
Agayne the sonne, that roos as rede as rose
. . .
And doune on knes anoon ryght I me sette,
And as I koude, this fresshe flour I grette,
Knelying alwey, til it unclosed was,
Upon the smale, softe, swote gras.

Again, in The 'Cuckoo and the Nightingale', after a wakeful night, the
Poet rises at dawn, and wandering forth, reaches a "laund of white and
green. "

'So feire oon had I nevere in bene,
The grounde was grene, y poudred with dayse,
The floures and the gras ilike al hie,
Al grene and white, was nothing elles sene. '


Ed.





* * * * *





TO THE SAME FLOWER [A]


Composed 1802. --Published 1807


[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere. -I. F. ]

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




With little here to do or see
Of things that in the great world be,
Daisy! again I talk to thee, [1]
For thou art worthy,
Thou unassuming Common-place 5
Of Nature, with that homely face,
And yet with something of a grace,
Which Love makes for thee!

Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similes, [2] 10
Loose types of things through all degrees,
Thoughts of thy raising:
And many a fond and idle name
I give to thee, for praise or blame,
As is the humour of the game, 15
While I am gazing.

A nun demure of lowly port;
Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court,
In thy simplicity the sport
Of all temptations; 20
A queen in crown of rubies drest;
A starveling in a scanty vest;
Are all, as seems [3] to suit thee best,
Thy appellations.

A little cyclops, with one eye 25
Staring to threaten and defy,
That thought comes next--and instantly
The freak is over,
The shape will vanish--and behold
A silver shield with boss of gold, 30
That spreads itself, some faery bold
In fight to cover!

I see thee glittering from afar--
And then thou art a pretty star;
Not quite so fair as many are 35
In heaven above thee!