I rose while yet the cattle, heat-opprest,
Crowded together under rustling trees
Brushed by the current of the water-breeze;
And for ‘their’ sakes, and love of all that rest,
On Duddon’s margin, in the sheltering nest;
For all the startled scaly tribes that slink
Into his coverts, and each fearless link
Of dancing insects forged upon his breast;
For these, and hopes and recollections worn
Close to the vital seat of human clay;
Glad meetings, tender partings, that upstay
The drooping mind of absence, by vows sworn
In his pure presence near the trysting thorn–
I thanked the Leader of my onward way.
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXIX - No Record Tells Of Lance Opposed To Lance
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXX - Who Swerves From Innocence, Who Makes Divorce
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXXI - The Kirk Of Ulpha To The Pilgrim's Eye
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXXII - Not Hurled Precipitous From Steep To Steep
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - XXXIII - Conclusion
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