For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth
THE GAY GOS-HAWK
“O well is me, my gay gos-hawk,
That you can speak and flee;
For you can carry a love-letter
To my true love frae me.”
“O how can I carry a letter to her,
Or how should I her know?
I bear a tongue ne’er wi’ her spak’,
And eyes that ne’er her saw.”
“The white o’ my love’s skin is white
As down o’ dove or maw;
The red o’ my love’s cheek is red
As blood that’s spilt on snaw.
“When ye come to the castle,
Light on the tree of ash,
And sit ye there, and sing our loves
As she comes frae the mass.
“Four and twenty fair ladies
Will to the mass repair;
And weel may ye my lady ken,
The fairest lady there.”