A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,

A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief, Which finds no natural outlet, no relief, In word, or sigh, or tear

O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood, 25 To other thoughts by yonder throstle wooed,

All this long eve, so balmy and serene, Have I been gazing on the western sky, And its peculiar tint of yellow green: And still I gaze-and with how blank an eye!

30 And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,

That give away their motion to the stars; Those stars, that glide behind them or between,

Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but al

ways seen:

Yon crescent moon, as fixed as if it grew 35 In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue; I see them all so excellently fair,

I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!

Like some poor nigh-related guest,
That may not rudely be dismissed;
Yet hath out-stayed his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.

WORK WITHOUT HOPE

us I do not recollect) that a series of poems might be composed of two sorts. In the one, the incidents and agents were to be, in part at least, supernatural; and the excellence aimed at was to consist [20 in the interesting of the affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions as would naturally accompany such situations, sup

From the BIOGRAPHIA LITERARIA CHAPTER XIV

During the first year that Mr. Wordsworth and I were neighbors, our conversations turned frequently on the two cardinal points of poetry, the power of exciting the sympathy of the reader by a faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and the power of giving the interest of novelty by the modifying colors of imagination. The sudden charm, which accidents of light and shade, which [10 moonlight or sunset, diffused over a known and familiar landscape, appeared to represent the practicability of combining both.

These are the poetry of nature. The thought suggested itself (to which of

they have been to every human being who, from whatever source of delusion, has at any time believed himself under supernatural agency. For the second class, subjects were to be chosen from ordinary life; the characters and [30 incidents were to be such as will be found in every village and its vicinity, where there is a meditative and feeling mind to seek after them, or to notice them when they present themselves.

In this idea originated the plan of the Lyrical Ballads; in which it was agreed that my endeavors should be directed to persons and characters supernatural, or at least romantic; yet so as to transfer [40 from our inward nature a human interest and a semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith. Mr. Wordsworth, on the other hand, was to propose to himself as his object, to give the charm of novelty to things of every day, and to excite a feeling analogous to the supernatural, by [50 awakening the mind's attention from the lethargy of custom, and directing it to the loveliness and the wonders of the world before us; an inexhaustible treasure, but for which, in consequence of the film of familiarity and selfish solicitude, we have eyes, yet see not, ears that hear not, and hearts that neither feel nor understand.

With this view I wrote The Ancient [60 Mariner, and was preparing, among other poems, The Dark Ladie, and the Christabel, in which I should have more nearly realized my ideal than I had done in my first attempt. But Mr. Wordsworth's industry had proved so much more successful, and the number of his poems so much greater, that my compositions, instead of forming a balance, appeared