THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, VOL. 8 (Completed)

XXIV -- IN LOMBARDY

See, where his difficult way that Old Man wins

Bent by a load of Mulberry leaves!--most hard

Appears his lot, to the small Worm's compared,

For whom his toil with early day begins.

Acknowledging no task-master, at will

(As if her labour and her ease were twins)

She seems to work, at pleasure to lie still;--

And softly sleeps within the thread she spins.

So fare they--the Man serving as her Slave.

Ere long their fates do each to each conform:

Both pass into new being,--but the Worm,

Transfigured, sinks into a hopeless grave;

His volant Spirit will, he trusts, ascend

To bliss unbounded, glory without end.