Three Years She Grew

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Three years she grew in sun and shower,Then Nature said, "A lovelier flowerOn earth was never sown;This Child I to myself will take;She shall be mine, and I will makeA Lady of my own.

"Myself will to my darling beBoth law and impulse: and with meThe Girl, in rock and plain,In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,Shall feel an overseeing powerTo kindle or restrain.

"She shall be sportive as the fawnThat wild with glee across the lawnOr up the mountain springs;And hers shall be the breathing balm,And hers the silence and the calmOf mute insensate things.

"The floating clouds their state shall lendTo her; for her the willow bend;Nor shall she fail to seeEven in the motions of the StormGrace that shall mould the Maiden's formBy silent sympathy.

"The stars of midnight shall be dearTo her; and she shall lean her earIn many a secret placeWhere rivulets dance their wayward round,And beauty born of murmuring soundShall pass into her face.

"And vital feelings of delightShall rear her form to stately height,Her virgin bosom swell;Such thoughts to Lucy I will giveWhile she and I together liveHere in this happy dell."

Thus Nature spake--The work was done--How soon my Lucy's race was run!She died, and left to meThis heath, this calm and quiet scene;The memory of what has been,And never more will be.

© William Wordsworth