Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.
The Wishing-gate
By William Wordsworth (17701850)
H
All powers that serve the bright-eyed queen
Are confident and gay;
Clouds at her bidding disappear;
Points she to aught?—the bliss draws near,
And Fancy smooths the way.
Dwell fruitless day-dreams, lawless prayer,
And thoughts with things at strife;
Yet how forlorn, should ye depart,
Ye superstitions of the heart,
How poor, were human life!
Ye did not forfeit one dear right,
One tender claim abate;
Witness this symbol of your sway,
Surviving near the public way,
The rustic Wishing-gate!
Shed kindly influence on the place,
Ere northward they retired;
If here a warrior left a spell,
Panting for glory as he fell;
Or here a saint expired.
Composed with Nature’s finest care,
And in her fondest love,—
Peace to embosom and content,—
To overawe the turbulent,
The selfish to reprove.
Reclining on this moss-grown bar,
Unknowing and unknown,
The infection of the ground partakes,
Longing for his beloved, who makes
All happiness her own.
The mystic stirrings that are here,
The ancient faith disclaim?
The local genius ne’er befriends
Desires whose course in folly ends,
Whose just reward is shame.
If some, by ceaseless pains outworn,
Here crave an easier lot;
If some have thirsted to renew
A broken vow, or bind a true
With firmer, holier knot.
Upon the irrevocable past,
Some penitent sincere
May for a worthier future sigh,
While trickles from his downcast eye
No unavailing tear.
From turmoil, who would turn or speed
The current of his fate,
Might stop before this favored scene,
At Nature’s call, nor blush to lean
Upon the Wishing-gate.
Is man, though loath such help to seek,
Yet, passing, here might pause,
And thirst for insight to allay
Misgiving, while the crimson day
In quietness withdraws;
To Time’s first step across the bound
Of midnight makes reply;
Time pressing on with starry crest,
To filial sleep upon the breast
Of dread Eternity.