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

THE POET'S DREAM [227]

SEQUEL TO THE NORMAN BOY

Published 1842

One of the "Poems referring to the Period of Childhood."--ED.

Just as those final words were penned, the sun broke out in power,

And gladdened all things; but, as chanced, within that very hour,

Air blackened, thunder growled, fire flashed from clouds that hid the sky,

And, for the Subject of my Verse, I heaved a pensive sigh.

Nor could my heart by second thoughts from heaviness be cleared,

For bodied forth before my eyes the cross-crowned hut appeared;

And, while around it storm as fierce seemed troubling earth and air,

I saw, within, the Norman Boy kneeling alone in prayer.

The Child, as if the thunder's voice spake with articulate call,

Bowed meekly in submissive fear, before the Lord of All;

His lips were moving; and his eyes, upraised to sue for grace,

With soft illumination cheered the dimness of that place.

How beautiful is holiness!--what wonder if the sight,

Almost as vivid as a dream, produced a dream at night?

It came with sleep and showed the Boy, no cherub, not transformed,

But the poor ragged Thing whose ways my human heart had warmed.

Me had the dream equipped with wings, so I took him in my arms,

And lifted from the grassy floor, stilling his faint alarms,

And bore him high through yielding air my debt of love to pay,

By giving him, for both our sakes, an hour of holiday.

I whispered, "Yet a little while, dear Child! thou art my own,

To show thee some delightful thing, in country or in town.

What shall it be? a mirthful throng? or that holy place and calm

St. Denis, filled with royal tombs,[228] or the Church of Notre Dame?[229]

"St. Ouen's golden Shrine?[230] Or choose what else would please thee most

Of any wonder Normandy, or all proud France, can boast!"

"My Mother," said the Boy, "was born near to a blessèd Tree,

The Chapel Oak of Allonville;[231] good Angel, show it me!"

On wings, from broad and stedfast poise let loose by this reply,

For Allonville, o'er down and dale, away then did we fly;

O'er town and tower we flew, and fields in May's fresh verdure drest;

The wings they did not flag; the Child, though grave, was not deprest.

But who shall show, to waking sense, the gleam of light that broke

Forth from his eyes, when first the Boy looked down on that huge oak,

For length of days so much revered, so famous where it stands

For twofold hallowing--Nature's care, and work of human hands?

Strong as an Eagle with my charge I glided round and round

The wide-spread boughs, for view of door, window, and stair that wound