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Sonnet for William
Wordworth
SONNET.
On my first and only visit to the Poet Wordsworth, shortly
previous to his death, when he regardfully presented me with
a walking-stick, which had been an old and much-used
favourite.
WORDSWORTH, bard of the heart! my pulse beat high
To meet the tearful welcome in thine eye.
We ne'er before, and ne'er again could meet;
The meeting tender, and the greeting sweet.
Each had the other known, but as a dream:
Our sympathy soon kindled with our theme -
COLERIDGE:- the wonders of whose bygone days
Each had in ample share the power to praise.
Thine were his later years: mine, when as boys
We tasted first of life, it's cares, and joys.
We parted: and at parting paused to bless.
Ere the deep farewell of our last caress
A staff thy gift, as with a friend to roam. -
Ah! No. It bides, for aye, the glory of my home.
C. V. LE GRICE.
Trereise, Cornwall.
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