Tuesday 13th April. I had slept ill & was not well & obliged to go to bed in the afternoon — Mrs C waked me from sleep with a letter from Coleridge. After tea I went down to see the Bank & walked along the Lake side to the field where Mr Smith thought of building his house. The air was become still the lake was of a bright slate colour, the hills darkening. The Bays shot into the low fading shores. Sheep resting all things quiet. When I returned Jane met me — William was come. The surprize shot through me. He looked well but he was tired & went soon to bed after a dish of Tea.
Wednesday 14th. William did not rise till dinner time. I walked with Mrs C. I was ill out of spirits — disheartened. Wm & I took a long walk in the Rain.
Thursday 15th. It was a threatening misty morning — but mild. We set off after dinner from Eusemere — Mrs Clarkson went a short way with us but turned back. The wind was furious & we thought we must have returned. We first rested in the large Boat-house, then under a furze Bush opposite Mr Clarksons, saw the plough going in the field. The wind seized our breath the Lake was rough. There was a Boat by itself floating in the middle of the Bay below Water Millock — We rested again in the Water Millock lane. The hawthorns are black & green, the birches here & there greenish but there is yet more of purple to be seen on the Twigs. We got over into a field to avoid some cows — people working, a few primroses by the roadside, woodsorrel flowers, the anemone, scentless violets, strawberries, & that starry yellow flower which Mrs C calls pile wort. When we were in the woods beyond Gow-barrow park we saw a few daffodils close to the water side, we fancied that the lake had floated the seeds ashore & that the little colony had so sprung up — But as we went along there were more & yet more & at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about & about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness & the rest tossed & reeled & danced & seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the Lake, they looked so gay ever glancing ever changing. This wind blew directly over the Lake to them. There was here & there a little knot & a few stragglers a few yards higher up but they were so few as not to disturb the simplicity & unity & life of that one busy highway — We rested again & again. The Bays were stormy & we heard the waves at different distances & in the middle of the water like the Sea — Rain came on, we were wet when we reached Luffs but we called in. Luckily all was chearless & gloomy so we faced the storm — we must have been wet if we had waited — put on dry clothes at Dobson’s. I was very kindly treated by a young woman, the Landlady looked sour but it is her way. She gave us a goodish supper, excellent ham & potatoes. We paid 7/when we came away. William was sitting by a bright fire when I came downstairs he soon made his way to the Library piled up in a corner of the window. He brought out a volume of Enfield’s Speaker, another miscellany, & an odd volume of Congreve’s plays. We had a glass of warm rum & water — we enjoyed ourselves & wished for Mary. It rained & blew when we went to bed. NB deer in Gowbarrow park like to skeletons.
Friday 16th April (Good Friday). When I undrew my curtains in the morning, I was much affected by the beauty of the prospect & the change. The sun shone, the wind had passed away, the hills looked chearful. The river was very bright as it flowed into the lake. The Church rises up behind a little knot of Rocks, the steeple not so high as an ordinary 3 story house. Bees, in a row in the garden under the wall. After Wm had shaved we set forward. The valley is at first broken by little rocky woody knolls that make retiring places, fairy valleys in the vale, the river winds along under these hills travelling not in a bustle but not slowly to the lake. We saw a fisherman in the flat meadow on the other side of the water he came towards us & threw his line over the two arched Bridge. It is a Bridge of a heavy construction, almost bending inwards in the middle, but it is grey & there is a look of ancientry in the architecture of it that pleased me. As we go on the vale opens out more into one vale with somewhat of a cradle Bed. Cottages with groups of trees on the side of the hills we passed a pair of twin Children 2 years old — & sate on the next bridge which we crossed a single arch, we rested again upon the Turf & looked at the same Bridge — we observed arches in the water occasioned by the large stones sending it down in two streams — a Sheep came plunging through the river, stumbled up the Bank & passed close to us, it had been frightened by an insignificant little Dog on the other side, its fleece dropped a glittering shower under its belly — primroses by the roadside, pile wort that shone like stars of gold in the Sun, violets, strawberries, retired & half buried among the grass. When we came to the foot of Brothers water I left William sitting on the Bridge & went along the path on the right side of the Lake through the wood — I was delighted with what I saw — the water under the boughs of the bare old trees, the simplicity of the mountains & the exquisite beauty of the path. There was one grey cottage. I repeated the Glowworm as I walked along — I hung over the gate, & thought I could have stayed for ever. When I returned I found William writing a poem descriptive of the sights & sounds we saw and heard. There was the gentle flowing of the stream, the glittering lively lake, green fields without a living creature to be seen on them, behind us, a flat pasture with 42 cattle feeding, to our left the road leading to the hamlet, no smoke there, the sun shone on the bare roofs. The people were at work ploughing, harrowing & sowing — Lasses spreading dung, a dogs barking now & then, cocks crowing, birds twittering, the snow in patches at the top of the highest hills, yellow palms, purple & green twigs on the Birches, ashes with their glittering spikes quite bare. The hawthorn a bright green with black stems under, the oak & the moss of the oak glossy. We then went on, passed two sisters at work, they first passed us, one with two pitch forks in her hand. The other had a spade. We had some talk with them. They laughed aloud after we were gone perhaps half in wantonness, half boldness. William finished his poem before we got to the foot of Kirkstone. There were hundreds of cattle in the vale. There we ate our dinner. The walk up Kirkstone was very interesting. The Becks among the Rocks were all alive — Wm showed me the little mossy streamlet which he had before loved when he saw its bright green track in the snow. The view above Ambleside, very beautiful. There we sate & looked down on the green vale. We watched the Crows at a little distance from us become white as silver as they flew in the sunshine, & when they went still further they looked like shapes of water passing over the green fields. The whitening of Ambleside Church is a great deduction from the beauty of it seen from this point. We called at the Luffs, the Boddingtons there did not go in & went round by the fields. I pulled of my stockings intending to wade the Beck but I was obliged to put them on & we climbed over the wall at the Bridge. The post passed us. No letters! Rydale Lake was in its own evening brightness, the Islands & points distinct. Jane Ashburner came up to us when we were sitting upon the wall — we rode in her cart to Tom Dawsons — all well. The garden looked pretty in the half moonlight half daylight. As we went up the vale of Brothers Water more & more cattle feeding 100 of them.
Saturday 17(th). A mild warm rain. We sate in the garden all the morning. William dug a little. I transplanted a honey suckle. The lake was still the sheep on the island reflected in the water, like the grey deer we saw in Gowbarrow park. We walked after tea by moonlight. I had been in bed in the afternoon & William had slept in his chair. We walked towards Rydale first then backwards & forwards below Mr Olliffs. The village was beautiful in the moonlight — helm crag we observed very distinct. The dead hedge round Benson’s field bound together at the top by an interlacing of ash sticks which made a chain of silver when we faced the moon — a letter from C, & also from S.H. I saw a Robin chacing a scarlet Butterfly this morning.
Sunday 18th. I lay in bed late. Again a mild grey morning with rising vapours we sate in the orchard — William wrote the poem on the Robin & the Butterfly. I went to drink tea at Luffs but as we did not dine till 6 o cloc
k it was late. It was mist & small rain all the way but very pleasant. William met me at Rydale — Aggy accompanied me thither. We sate up late. He met me with the conclusion of the poem of the Robin. I read it to him in Bed. We left out some lines.
Monday 19th. A mild rain very warm Wm worked in the garden, I made pies & bread. After dinner the mist cleared away & sun shone. William walked to Luffs I was not very well & went to bed. Wm came home pale & tired. I could not rest when I got to bed.
Tuesday 20th. A beautiful morning the sun shone — William wrote a conclusion to the poem of the Butterfly, ‘I’ve watch’d you now a full half-hour’. I was quite out of spirits & went into the orchard — When I came in he had finished the poem. We sate in the orchard after dinner, it was a beautiful afternoon. The sun shone upon the Level fields & they grew greener beneath the eye — houses village all chearful, people at work. We sate in the Orchard & repeated the Glowworm & other poems. Just when William came to a Well or a Trough which there is in Lord Darlington’s Park he began to write that poem of the Glow-worm not being able to ride upon the long Trot — interrupted in going through the Town of Stain-drop. Finished it about 2 miles & a half beyond Staindrop — he did not feel the jogging of the horse while he was writing but when he had done he felt the effect of it & his fingers were cold with his gloves. His horse fell with him on the other side of St Helen’s, Auckland. — So much for the Glowworm: It was written coming from Middleham on Monday April 12th 1802. On Tuesday 20th when we were sitting after Tea Coleridge came to the door. I startled Wm with my voice — C came up palish but I afterwards found he looked well. William was not well & I was in low spirits.
Wednesday 21st. William & I sauntered a little in the garden. Coleridge came to us & repeated the verses he wrote to Sara — I was affected with them & was on the whole, not being well, in miserable spirits. The sunshine — the green fields & the fair sky made me sadder; even the little happy sporting lambs seemed but sorrowful to me. The pile wort spread out on the grass a thousand shining stars, the primroses were there & the remains of a few Daffodils. The well which we cleaned out last night is still but a little muddy pond, though full of water. I went to bed after dinner, could not sleep, went to bed again. Read Ferguson’s life & a poem or two — fell asleep for 5 minutes & awoke better. We got tea. Sate comfortably in the Evening I went to bed early.
Thursday 22nd. A fine mild morning — we walked into Easedale. The sun shone. Coleridge talked of his plan of sowing the Laburnum in the woods — The waters were high for there had been a great quantity of rain in the night. I was tired & sate under the shade of a holly Tree that grows upon a Rock — I sate there & looked down the stream. I then went to the single holly behind that single Rock in the field & sate upon the grass till they came from the Waterfall. I saw them there & heard Wm flinging Stones into the River whose roaring was loud even where I was. When they returned William was repeating the poem T have thoughts that are fed by the Sun’. It had been called to his mind by the dying away of the stunning of the Waterfall when he came behind a stone. When we had got into the vale a heavy rain came on. We saw a family of little Children sheltering themselves under a wall before the rain came on, they sate in a Row making a canopy for each other of their clothes. The servant lass was planting potatoes near them. Coleridge changed his clothes — we were all wet — Wilkinson came in while we were at dinner. Coleridge & I after dinner drank black currants & water.
Friday 23rd April 1802. It being a beautiful morning we set off at 11 o clock intending to stay out of doors all the morning. We went towards Rydale & before we got to Tom Dawson’s we determined to go under Nab Scar. Thither we went. The sun shone & we were lazy. Coleridge pitched upon several places to sit down upon but we could not be all of one mind respecting sun & shade so we pushed on to the Foot of the Scar. It was very grand when we looked up very stony, here & there a budding tree. William observed that the umbrella Yew tree that breasts the wind had lost its character as a tree & had become something like to solid wood. Coleridge & I pushed on before. We left William sitting on the stones feasting with silence — & C & I sate down upon a rock Seat — a Couch it might be under the Bower of William’s Eglantine, Andrew’s Broom. He was below us & we could see him — he came to us & repeated his poems while we sate beside him upon the ground. He had made himself a seat in the crumbly ground. After we had lingered long looking into the vales — Ambleside vale with the copses the village under the hill & the green fields — Rydale with a lake all alive & glittering yet but little stirred by Breezes, & our own dear Grasmere first making a little round lake of natures own with never a house never a green field — but the copses & the bare hills, enclosing it & the river flowing out of it. Above rose the Coniston Fells in their own shape & colour — not Man’s hills but all for themselves the sky & the clouds & a few wild creatures. C went to search for something new. We saw him climbing up towards a Rock, he called us & we found him in a Bower, the sweetest that was ever seen — the Rock on one side is very high & all covered with ivy which hung loosely about & bore bunches of brown berries. On the other side it was higher than my head. We looked down upon the Ambleside vale that seemed to wind away from us the village lying under the hill. The Fir tree Island was reflected beautifully — we now first saw that the trees are planted in rows. About this bower there is mountain ash, common ash, yew tree, ivy, holly, hawthorn, mosses & flowers, & a carpet of moss — Above at the top of the Rock there is another spot — it is scarce a Bower, a little parlour, one not enclosed by walls but shaped out for a resting place by the rocks & the ground rising about it. It had a sweet moss carpet — We resolved to go & plant flowers in both these places tomorrow. We wished for Mary & Sara. Dined late. After dinner Wm & I worked in the garden. C read. A letter from Sara.
Saturday 24th. A very wet day. William called me out to see a waterfall behind the Barberry tree — We walked in the evening to Rydale — Coleridge & I lingered behind — C stopped up the little runner by the Road side to make a lake. We all stood to look at Glowworm Rock — a primrose that grew there & just looked out on the Road from its own sheltered bower. The clouds moved as William observed in one regular body like a multitude in motion a sky all clouds over, not one cloud. On our return it broke a little out & we saw here & there a star. One appeared but for a moment in a lake pale blue sky.
Sunday 25th April. After breakfast we set off with Coleridge towards Keswick. Wilkinson overtook us near the Potters & interrupted our discourse. C got into a Gig with Mr Beck, & drove away from us. A shower came on but it was soon over — we spent the morning in the orchard. Read the Prothalamium of Spenser — walked backwards & forwards. Mr Simpson drank tea with us. I was not well before tea. Mr S sent us some quills by Molly Ashburner & his Brother’s book. The Luffs called at the door.
Monday 26th. I copied Wm’s poems for Coleridge. Letters from Peggy & Mary H — wrote to Peggy & Coleridge. A terrible rain & wind all day. Went to bed at 12 o clock.
Tuesday 27th. A fine morning. Mrs Luff called I walked with her to the Boat-house — William met me at the top of the hill with his fishing-rod in his hand. I turned with him & we sate on the hill looking to Rydale. I left him intending to join him but he came home, & said his lines would not stand the pulling — he had had several bites. He sate in the orchard, I made bread. Miss Simpson called I walked with her to Goans. When I came back I found that he & John Fisher had cleaned out the well — John had sodded about the Bee-stand. In the evening Wm began to write the Tinker. We had a Letter & verses from Coleridge.
Wednesday 28th April. A fine sunny but coldish morning. I copied the Prioress’s tale. Wm was in the orchard — I went to him — he worked away at his poem, though he was ill & tired — I happened to say that when I was a Child I would not have pulled a strawberry blossom. I left him & wrote out the Manciple’s Tale. At dinner-time he came in with the poem of ‘Children gathering flowers’ — but it was not quite finished & it kept him long off his dinner. It is now done he is working at
the Tinker, he promised me he would get his tea & do no more but I have got mine an hour & a quarter & he has scarcely begun his. I am not quite well — We have let the bright sun go down without walking — now a heavy shower comes on & I guess we shall not walk at all — I wrote a few lines to Coleridge. Then we walked backwards & forwards between our house & Olliffs. We talked about T Hutchinson & Bell Addison. William left me sitting on a stone. When we came in we corrected the Chaucers but I could not finish them tonight, went to bed.
Thursday 29th. A beautiful morning. The sun shone & all was pleasant. We sent off our parcel to Coleridge by the waggon. Mr Simpson heard the Cuckow today. Before we went out, after I had written down the Tinker, which William finished this morning, Luff called. He was very lame, limped into the kitchen — he came on a little Pony. We then went to Johns Grove, sate a while at first. Afterwards William lay, & I lay in the trench under the fence — he with his eyes shut & listening to the waterfalls & the Birds. There was no one waterfall above another — it was a sound of waters in the air — the voice of the air. William heard me breathing & rustling now & then but we both lay still, & unseen by one another — he thought that it would be as sweet thus to lie so in the grave, to hear the peaceful sounds of the earth & just to know that ones dear friends were near. The Lake was still there was a Boat out. Silver how reflected with delicate purple & yellowish hues as I have seen Spar — Lambs on the island & Running races together by the half dozen in the round field near us. The copses greenish, hawthorn green. — Came home to dinner then went to Mr Simpson. We rested a long time under a wall. Sheep & lambs were in the field — cottages smoking. As I lay down on the grass, I observed the glittering silver line on the ridges of the Backs of the sheep, owing to their situation respecting the Sun — which made them look beautiful but with something of strangeness, like animals of another kind — as if belonging to a more splendid world. Met old Mr S at the door — Mrs S poorly — I got mullens & pansies — I was sick & ill & obliged to come home soon. We went to bed immediately — I slept up stairs. The air coldish where it was felt somewhat frosty.
Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth Page 481