Composed 1805.--Published 1815
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laced by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."--Ed. Sweet Flower! belike one day to haveA place upon thy Poet's grave,I welcome thee once more:But He, who was on land, at sea,My Brother, too, in loving thee, 5Although he loved more silently,Sleeps by his native shore. Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the dayWhen to that Ship he bent his way,To govern and to guide: 10His wish was gained: a little timeWould bring him back in manhood's primeAnd free for life, these hills to climb;With all his wants supplied. And full of hope day followed day 15While that stout Ship at anchor layBeside the shores of Wight;The May had then made all things green;And, floating there, in pomp serene,That Ship was goodly to be seen, 20His pride and his delight! Yet then, when called ashore, he soughtThe tender peace of rural thought:In more than happy moodTo your abodes, bright daisy Flowers! 25He then would steal at leisure hours,And loved you glittering in your bowers,A starry multitude. But hark the word!--the ship is gone;--Returns from her long course: [1]--anon 30Sets sail:--in season due,Once more on English earth they stand:But, when a third time from the landThey parted, sorrow was at handFor Him and for his crew. 35 Ill-fated Vessel!--ghastly shock!--At length delivered from the rock,The deep she hath regained;And through the stormy night they steer;Labouring for life, in hope and fear, 40To reach a safer shore [2]--how near,Yet not to be attained! "Silence!" the brave Commander cried;To that calm word a shriek replied,It was the last death-shriek. 45--A few (my soul oft sees that sight)Survive upon the tall mast's height; [3]But one dear remnant of the night--For Him in vain I seek. Six weeks beneath the moving sea 50He lay in slumber quietly;Unforced by wind or waveTo quit the Ship for which he died,(All claims of duty satisfied;)And there they found him at her side; 55And bore him to the grave. Vain service! yet not vainly doneFor this, if other end were none,That He, who had been castUpon a way of life unmeet 60For such a gentle Soul and sweet,Should find an undisturbed retreatNear what he loved, at last-- That neighbourhood of grove and fieldTo Him a resting-place should yield, 65A meek man and a brave!The birds shall sing and ocean makeA mournful murmur for _his_ sake;And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wakeUpon his senseless grave. [4] 70 * * * * *
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