Sunday (23rd). I sate with C in the orchard all the morning. William was very nervous. I was ill in the afternoon, took laudanum. We walked in Bainriggs after tea, saw the juniper — umbrella shaped. — C went to S & M Points, joined us on White Moss.
Monday 24th May 1802. A very hot morning. We were ready to go off with Coleridge, but foolishly sauntered & Miss Taylor & Miss Stanley called. William & Coleridge & I went afterwards to the top of the Rays. I was ill & left them, lay down at Mrs Simpsons. I had sent off a letter to Mary by C. I wrote again & to C then went to bed. William slept not till 5 o’clock.
Tuesday 25th. Very hot — I went to bed after dinner — We walked in the evening. Papers & short note from C — again no sleep for Wm.
Wednesday 26th. I was very unwell — went to bed again after dinner. We walked a long time backwards & forwards between Johns Grove & the Lane upon the Turf — a beautiful night, not cloudless, it has never been so since May day.
Thursday 27th. I was in bed all day — very ill. William wrote to Rd Cr. & Cook. Wm went after tea into the orchard. I slept in his bed — he slept downstairs. He slept better than before.
Friday 28th. I was much better than yesterday, though poorly. Wm tired himself with hammering at a passage. I was out of spirits. After dinner he was better & I grew better. We sate in the orchard. The sky cloudy the air sweet & cool. The young Bullfinches in their party coloured Raiment bustle about among the Blossoms & poize themselves like Wire dancers or tumblers, shaking the twigs & dashing off the Blossoms. There is yet one primrose in the orchard — the stitchwort is fading — the wild columbines are coming into beauty — the vetches are in abundance Blossoming & seeding. That pretty little waxy looking Dial-like yellow flower, the speedwell, & some others whose names I do not yet know. The wild columbines are coming into beauty — some of the gowans fading. In the garden we have lilies & many other flowers. The scarlet Beans are up in crowds. It is now between 8 & nine o’clock. It has rained sweetly for two hours & a half — the air is very mild. The heckberry blossoms are dropping off fast, almost gone — barberries are in beauty — snowballs coming forward — May Roses blossoming.
Saturday 29th. I was much better. I made bread & a wee Rhubarb Tart & batter pudding for William. We sate in the orchard after dinner William finished his poem on Going for Mary. I wrote it out — I wrote to Mary H, having received a letter from her in the evening. A sweet day we nailed up the honeysuckles, & hoed the scarlet beans.
Sunday 30th May 1802. I wrote to Mrs Clarkson. It was a clear but cold day. The Simpsons called in the Evening. I had been obliged to go to bed before tea & was unwell all day. Gooseberries a present from Peggy Hodgson. I wrote to my Aunt Cookson.
Monday 31st. I was much better. We sate out all the day. Mary Jameson dined. I wrote out the poem on ‘Our Departure’ which he seemed to have finished. In the evening Miss Simpson brought us a letter from MH & a complimentary & critical letter to W from John Wilson of Glasgow Post Paid. I went a little way with Miss S. My Tooth broke today. They will soon be gone. Let that pass I shall be beloved — I want no more.
Tuesday (1st). A very sweet day, but a sad want of rain. We went into the Orchard before dinner after I had written to MH. Then on to Mr Olliffs Intakes — we found some torn Birds nests. The Columbine was growing upon the Rocks, here & there a solitary plant — sheltered & shaded by the tufts & Bowers of trees it is a graceful slender creature, a female seeking retirement & growing freest & most graceful where it is most alone. I observed that the more shaded plants were always the tallest — a short note & gooseberries from Coleridge.
Wednesday 2nd June 1802. In the morning we observed that the Scarlet Beans were drooping in the leaves in great Numbers owing, we guess to an insect. We sate a while in the orchard — then we went to the old carpenters about the hurdles. Yesterday an old man called, a grey-headed man, above 70 years of age; he said he had been a soldier, that his wife & children had died in Jamaica. He had a Beggars wallet over his shoulders, a coat of shreds & patches altogether of a drab colour — he was tall & though his body was bent he had the look of one used to have been upright. I talked a while to him, & then gave him a piece of cold Bacon & a penny — said he ‘You’re a fine woman!’ I could not help smiling. I suppose he meant ‘You’re a kind woman’. Afterwards a woman called travelling to Glasgow. After dinner William was very unwell. We went into Frank’s field, crawded up the little glen & planned a seat then went to Mr Olliffs Hollins & sate there — found a beautiful shell-like purple fungus in Frank’s field. After tea we walked to Butterlip How & backwards & forwards there. All the young oak tree leaves are dry as powder. A cold south wind portending Rain. After we came in we sate in deep silence at the window — I on a chair & William with his hand on my shoulder. We were deep in Silence & Love, a blessed hour. We drew to the fire before bed-time & ate some Broth for our suppers. I ought to have said that on Tuesday evening, namely June 1st, we walked upon the Turf near Johns Grove. It was a lovely night. The clouds of the western sky reflected a saffron light upon the upper end of the lake — all was still — We went to look at Rydale. There was an alpine fire-like red upon the tops of the mountains. This was gone when we came in view of the Lake. But we saw the Lake in a new & most beautiful point of view between two little rocks, & behind a small ridge that had concealed it from us. — This White Moss a place made for all kinds of beautiful works of art & nature, woods & valleys, fairy valleys & fairy Tairns, miniature mountains, alps above alps. Little John Dawson came past us from the woods with a huge stick over his shoulder.
Thursday 3rd June 1802. A very fine rain. I lay in bed till 10 o’clock. William much better than yesterday — We walked into Easedale sheltered in a Cow-house. Came home wet — the Cuckow sang & we watched the little Birds as we sate at the door of the Cow-house — the oak copses are brown as in autumn, with the late frosts — scattered over with green Trees, Birches or hazels — the Ashes are coming into full leaf — some of them injured. We came home quite wet. We have been reading the Life & some of the writings of poor Logan since dinner.’And everlasting Longings for the lost.’ It is an affecting line. There are many affecting lines & passages in his poems. William is now sleeping — with the window open lying on the window Seat. The thrush is singing. There are I do believe a thousand Buds on the honeysuckle tree all small & far from blowing save one that is retired behind the twigs close to the wall & as snug as a Bird’s nest. John’s Rose tree is very beautiful blended with the honeysuckle.
On Tuesday Evening when we were among the Rocks we saw in the woods what seemed to be a man, resting or looking about him he had a piece of wood near him. William was on before me when we returned, & as I was going up to him, I found that this supposed man was John Dawson. I spoke to him & I suppose he thought I asked him what my Brother had said to him before, for he replied, ‘William asks me how my head is’ — Poor fellow! — he says it is worse & worse & he walks as if he were afraid of putting his Body in motion.
Yesterday morning William walked as far as the Swan with Aggy Fisher. She was going to attend upon Goan’s dying Infant. She said ‘There are many heavier Grosses than the death of an Infant’, & went on ‘There was a woman in this vale who buried 4 grown-up Children in one year, & I have heard her say when many years were gone by that she had more pleasure in thinking of these 4 than of her living Children, for as Children get up & have families of their own their duty to their parents ‘wears out & weakens’. She could trip lightly by the graves of those who died when they were young — with a light step, as she went to Church on a Sunday.’
Thursday June 3rd. We walked while dinner was getting ready up into Mr Kings Hollins. I was weak & made my way down alone, for Wm took a difficult way. After dinner we walked upon the Turf path — a showery afternoon. A very affecting letter came from MH while I was sitting in the window reading Milton’s Penseroso to William. I answered this letter before I went to bed.
Friday June 4th. It was a very sweet morning there had
been much rain in the night. William had slept miserably — but knowing this I lay in bed while he got some sleep but was much disordered, he shaved himself then we went into the orchard — dined late. In the evening we walked on our favorite path. Then we came in & sate in the orchard. The evening was dark & warm — a tranquil night — I left William in the orchard. I read Mother Hubbard’s tale before I went to bed.
Saturday 5th. A fine showery morning. I made both pies & bread, but we first walked into Easedale, & sate under the oak trees upon the mossy stones. There were one or 2 slight showers. The Gowans were flourishing along the Banks of the stream. The strawberry flower (Geum) hanging over the Brook — all things soft & green. — In the afternoon William sate in the orchard. I went there, was tired & fell asleep. Mr Simpson drank tea, Mrs Smith called with her daughter. We walked late in the Evening upon our path. We began the letter to John Wilson.
Sunday 6th June 1802. A showery morning. We were writing the letter to John Wilson when Ellen came — Molly at Goan’s child’s funeral. After dinner I walked into John Fisher’s Intake with Ellen. She brought us letters from Coleridge, Mrs Clarkson & Sara Hutchinson. William went out in the Evening & sate in the orchard, it was a showery day. In the evening there was one of the heaviest showers I ever remember.
Monday June 7th. I wrote to Mary H. this morning, sent the C Indolence poem. Copied the Letter to John Wilson, & wrote to my Brother Richard & Mrs Coleridge. In the evening I walked with Ellen to Butterlip How & to George Mackareth’s for the horse — it was a very sweet evening — there was the Cuckow & the little Birds — the copses still injured, but the trees in general looked most soft & beautiful in tufts. William was walking when we came in — he had slept miserably for 2 nights past so we all went to bed soon. I went with Ellen in the morning to Rydale Falls. Letters from Annette, Mary H & Cook.
Tuesday June 8th. Ellen & I rode to Windermere. We had a fine sunny day, neither hot nor cold. I mounted the horse at the quarry — we had no difficulties or delays but at the gates. I was enchanted with some of the views. From the High Ray the view is very delightful, rich & festive, water & wood houses groves hedgerows green fields & mountains — white Houses large & small — We passed 2 or 3 nice looking statesmen’s houses. Mr Curwen’s shrubberies looked pitiful enough under the native Trees. We put up our horses, ate our dinner by the water-side & walked up to the Station. Then we went to the Island, walked round it, & crossed the lake with our horse in the Ferry. The shrubs have been cut away in some parts of the island. I observed to the Boatman that I did not think it improved — he replied—’We think it is for one could hardly see the house before.’ It seems to me to be, however, no better than it was. They have made no natural glades, it is merely a lawn with a few miserable young trees standing as if they were half starved. There are no sheep no cattle upon these lawns. It is neither one thing or another — neither natural nor wholly cultivated & artificial which it was before, & that great house! Mercy upon us! If it could be concealed it would be well for all who are not pained to see the pleasantest of earthly spots deformed by man. But it cannot be covered. Even the tallest of our old oak trees would not reach to the top of it. When we went into the boat there were 2 men standing at the landing place. One seemed to be about 60, a man with a jolly red face — he looked as if he might have lived many years in Mr Curwen’s house. He wore a blue jacket & Trowsers, as the people who live close by Windermere particularly at the places of chief resort in affectation, I suppose. He looked significantly at our Boatman just as we were rowing off & said ‘Thomas mind you take off the directions off that Cask. You know what I mean. It will serve as a blind for them, you know. It was a blind business both for you & the coachman & me & all of us. Mind you take off the directions — A wink’s as good as a nod with some folks’ — & then he turned round looking at his companion with such an air of self-satisfaction & deep insight into unknown things! — I could hardly help laughing outright at him. The Laburnums blossom freely at the Island & in the shrubberies on the shore — they are blighted everywhere else. Roses of various sorts were out. The Brooms were in full glory everywhere ‘veins of gold’ among the copses. The hawthorns in the valley fading away — beautiful upon the hills. We reached home at 3 o clock. After tea William went out & walked and wrote that poem,
‘The sun has long been set’ &c —
He first went up to G Mackareths with the horse. Afterwards he walked on our own path & wrote the lines, he called me into the orchard & there repeated them to me — he then stayed there till 11 o clock.
Wednesday June 9th. Wm slept ill. A soaking all-day Rain. We should have gone to Mr Simpson’s to tea but we walked up after tea. Lloyds called. The hawthorns on the mountain sides like orchards in blossom. Brought Rhubarb down. It rained hard. Ambleside Fair. I wrote to Chrisr & MH.
Thursday June 10th. I wrote to Mrs Clarkson & Luff — went with Ellen to Rydale. Coleridge came in with a sack-full of Books &c & a Branch of mountain ash he had been attacked by a Cow — he came over by Grisdale — a furious wind. Mr Simpson drank tea. William very poorly — we went to bed latish. I slept in sitting room.
Friday June 11th. A wet day. William had slept very ill. Wm & C walked out — I went to bed after dinner not well. I was tired with making beds cooking &c — Molly being very ill.
Saturday June 12th. A rainy morning. C set off before Dinner. We went with him to the Rays but it rained so we went no further — sheltered under a wall — He would be sadly wet for a furious shower came on just when we parted. — We got no dinner, but Gooseberry pie to our tea. I baked both pies & bread, & walked with William first on our own path but it was too wet there, next over the rocks to the Road, & backward & forward, & last of all up to Mr King’s. Miss Simpson & Robert had called. Letters from Sara & Annette.
Sunday June 13th. A fine morning. Sunshiny & bright, but with rainy clouds. William had slept better — but not well — he has been altering the poem to Mary this morning, he is now washing his feet. I wrote out poems for our journey & I wrote a letter to my Uncle Cookson. Mr Simpson came when we were in the orchard in the morning & brought us a beautiful drawing which he had done. In the evening we walked first on our own path. There we walked a good while — It was a silent night. The stars were out by ones & twos but no cuckow, no little Birds, the air was not warm, & we have observed that since Tuesday 8th when William wrote, ‘The sun has long been set’, that we have had no Birds singing after the Evening is fairly set in. We walked to our new view of Rydale, but it put on a sullen face. There was an owl hooting in Bainriggs. Its first halloo was so like a human shout that I was surprized when it made its second call, tremulous & lengthened out, to find that the shout had come from an owl. The full moon (not quite full) was among a company of steady island clouds, & the sky bluer about it than the natural sky blue. William observed that the full moon above a dark fir grove is a fine image of the descent of a superior being. There was a shower which drove us into John’s grove before we had quitted our favorite path — we walked upon John’s path before we went to view Rydale. We went to Bed immediately on our return home.
Monday June 14th. I was very unwell — went to bed before I drank my tea — was sick & afterwards almost asleep when Wm brought me a letter from Mary which he read to me sitting by the bed-side — Wm wrote to Mary & Sara about the Leech-gatherer I wrote to both of them in one & to Annette, to Coleridge also. I was better after tea. — I walked with Wm — when I had put up my parcel on our own path — we were driven away by the horses that go on the commons. Then we went to look at Rydale, walked a little in the fir grove, went again to the top of the hill & came home — a mild & sweet night — Wm stayed behind me. I threw him the cloak out of the window the moon overcast, he sate a few minutes in the orchard came in sleepy, & hurried to bed — I carried him his bread & butter.
Tuesday 15th. A sweet grey mild morning the birds sing soft & low — William has not slept all night. It wants only 10 minutes of 10 & he is in bed yet. After Wil
liam rose we went & sate in the orchard till dinner time. We walked a long time in the Evening upon our favorite path — the owls hooted, the night-hawk sang to itself incessantly, but there were no little Birds, no thrushes. I left William writing a few lines about the night-hawk & other images of the evening, & went to seek for letters — none were come. — We walked backwards & forwards a little, after I returned to William, & then up as far as Mr King’s. Came in. There was a Basket of Lettuces, a letter from MH about the delay of mine & telling of one she had sent by the other post, one from Wade & one from Sara to C — William did not read them — MH growing fat.
Wednesday 16th. We walked towards Rydale for letters — met Frank Baty with the expected one from Mary. We went up into Rydale woods & read it there, we sate near an old wall which fenced a Hazel grove, which Wm said was exactly like the filbert grove at Middleham. It is a beautiful spot, a sloping or rather steep piece of ground, with hazels growing ‘tall and erect’, in clumps at distances almost seeming regular as if they had been planted. We returned to Dinner. I wrote to Mary after dinner while Wm sate in the orchard. Old Mr Simpson drank tea with us. When Mr S was gone I read my letter to William, speaking to Mary about having a cat. I spoke of the little Birds keeping us company — & William told me that that very morning a Bird had perched upon his leg — he had been lying very still & had watched this little creature, it had come under the Bench where he was sitting & then flew up to his leg, he thoughtlessly stirred himself to look further at it & it flew onto the apple tree above him. It was a little young creature, that had just left its nest, equally unacquainted with man & unaccustomed to struggle against Storms & winds. While it was upon the apple tree the wind blew about the stiff boughs & the Bird seemed bemazed & not strong enough to strive with it. The swallows come to the sitting-room window as if wishing to build but I am afraid they will not have courage for it, but I believe they will build at my room window. They twitter & make a bustle & a little chearful song hanging against the panes of glass, with their soft white bellies close to the glass, & their forked fish-like tails. They swim round & round & again they come. — It was a sweet evening we first walked to the top of the hill to look at Rydale & then to Butterlip How — I do not now see the brownness that was in the coppices. The lower hawthorn blossoms passed away, those on the hills are a faint white. The wild guelder rose is coming out, & the wild roses. I have seen no honeysuckles yet except our own one nestling & a tree of the yellow kind at Mrs Townley’s the day I went with Ellen to Windermere. Foxgloves are now frequent, the first I saw was that day with Ellen, & the first ripe strawberries — a letter from Coleridge. I read the first Canto of the fairy Queen to William. William went to bed immediately.
Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth Page 483