William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909.
The Wishing-gate DestroyedWilliam Wordsworth (17701850)
’T
That round it clung, and tempting scheme
Released from fear and doubt;
And the bright landscape too must lie,
By this blank wall, from every eye,
Relentlessly shut out.
That opening—but a look ye cast
Upon the lake below,
What spirit-stirring power it gained
From faith which here was entertained,
Though reason might say no.
Of history, Glory claps her wings,
Fame sheds the exulting tear;
Yet earth is wide, and many a nook
Unheard of is, like this, a book
For modest meanings dear.
That grafted, on so fair a spot,
So confident a token
Of coming good;—the charm is fled,
Indulgent centuries spun a thread,
Which one harsh day has broken.
Could he no sympathy afford,
Derived from earth or heaven,
To hearts so oft by hope betrayed;
Their very wishes wanted aid
Which here was freely given?
Will now so readily be found
A balm of expectation?
Anxious for far-off children, where
Shall mothers breathe a like sweet air
Of home-felt consolation?
’Mid trivial care and petty cross
And each day’s shallow grief:
Though the most easily beguiled
Were oft among the first that smiled
At their own fond belief.
A reconciling thought may turn
To harm that might lurk here,
Ere judgment prompted from within
Fit aims, with courage to begin,
And strength to persevere.
Enjoins, while firm resolves await
On wishes just and wise,
That strenuous action follow both,
And life be one perpetual growth
Of heaven-ward enterprise.
All accidents of time and place;
Whatever props may fail,
Trust in that sovereign law can spread
New glory o’er the mountain’s head,
Fresh beauty through the vale.
The simplest cottager may part,
Ungrieved, with charm and spell;
And yet, lost Wishing-gate, to thee
The voice of grateful memory
Shall bid a kind farewell!