The Poem

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Who fancied what a pretty sight
This Rock would be if edged around
With living snow-drops? circlet bright!
How glorious to this orchard-ground!
Who loved the little Rock, and set
Upon its head this coronet?
Was it the humour of a child?
Or rather of some gentle maid,
Whose brows, the day that she was styled
The shepherd-queen, were thus arrayed?
Of man mature, or matron sage?
Or old man toying with his age?
I asked—'twas whispered; The device
To each and all might well belong:
It is the Spirit of Paradise
That prompts such work, a Spirit strong,
That gives to all the self-same bent
Where life is wise and innocent.
[Contents 1803]
[Main Contents]
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[2]

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[Variant 1:]

1836
... love-sick ... 1807

... love-sick ...

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[Variant 2:]

1827
... or ... 1807

... or ...

[return]

[Contents 1803]
[Main Contents]

"It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown"