With languid feet which by the slippery groan 20 Were baffled still; and when I stretched myself On the brown earth my limbs from very heat Could find no rest, nor my weak arm disperse The insect host which gathered round my face And joined their murmurs to the tedious noise 25 Of seeds of bursting gorse that crackled round. I rose and turned towards a group of trees Which midway in that level stood alone; And thither come at length, beneath a shade Of clustering elms4 that sprang from the same root 30 I found a ruined house, four naked walls That stared upon each other. I looked round And near the door I saw an aged man Alone and stretched upon the cottage bench, An iron-pointed staff lay at his side. 35 With instantaneous joy I recognized That pride of nature and of lowly life, The venerable Armytage, a friend As dear to me as is the setting sun.. Two days before 40 We had been fellow-travellers, I knew That he was in this neighbourhood, and now Delighted found him here in the cool shade. He lay, his pack of rustic merchandise Pillowing his head. I guess he had no thought 45 Of his way-wandering life. His eyes were shut, The shadows of the breezy elms above Dappled his face. With thirsty heat oppressed At length I hailed him, glad to see his hat Bedewed with water-drops, as if the brim 50 Had newly scooped a running scream. He rose And pointing to a sunflower, bade me climb The [] wall where that same gaudy flower Looked out upon the road. It was a plot Of garden-ground now wild, its matted weeds 55 Marked with the steps of those whom its they passed, The gooseberry-trees that shot in long lank slips. Or currants hanging from their leafless stems In scanty strings, had tempted to o'erleap The broken wall. Within that cheerless spot, 60 Where two tall hedgerows of thick willow boughs Joined in a damp cold nook, I found a well. Half covered up with willow-flowers and weeds, I slaked my thirst and to the shady bench Returned, and while I stood unbonneted 65 To catch the motion of the cooler air The old man said, 'I see around me here Things which you cannot see. We die, my friend, Nor we alone, but that which each man loved And prized in his peculiar nook of earth 70 Dies with him, or is changed, and very soon Even of the good is no memorial left. The poets, in their elegies and songs Lamenting the departed, call the groves, They call upon the hills and streams to mourn, 75 And senseless rocks — nor idly, for they speak In these their invocations with a voice Obedient to the strong creative power Of human passion. Sympathies there are More tranquil, yet perhaps of kindred birth, 80 That steal upon the meditative mind And grow with thought. Beside yon spring I stood, And eyed its waters till we seemed to feel One sadness, they and L For them a bond Of brotherhood is broken: time has been 85 When every day the touch of human hand Disturbed their stillness, and they ministered To human comfort. When I stooped to drink A spider's web hung to the water's edge, And on the wet and slimy footstone lay 90 The useless fragment of a wooden bowl; It moved my very heart. The day has been When I could never pass this road but she Who lived within these walls, when I appeared, A daughter's welcome gave me, and I loved her 95 As my own child. Oh sir! The good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket, Many a passenger Has blessed poor Margaret for her gentle looks When she upheld the cool refreshment drawn 100 From that forsaken spring, and no one came But he was welcome, no one went away But that it seemed she loved him. She is dead, The worm is on her cheek, and this poor hut, Stripped of its outward garb of household flowers, 105 Of rose and sweetbriar, offers to the wind A cold bare wall whose earthy top is tricked With weeds and the rank speargrass. She is dead, And nettles rot and adders sun themselves Where we have sat together while she nursed 110 Her infant at her breast. The unshod colt, The wandering heifer and the potter's ass, Find shelter now within the chimney-wall Where I have seen her evening hearthstone blaze And through the window spread upon the road 115 Its cheerful light. You will forgive me, sir,
