William Wordsworth

VII. Stepping Westward

“What, you are stepping westward?”—"Yea."
         —'Twould be a 'wildish’ destiny,
         If we, who thus together roam
         In a strange Land, and far from home,
         Were in this place the guests of Chance:
         Yet who would stop, or fear to advance,
         Though home or shelter he had none,
         With such a sky to lead him on?
 
         The dewy ground was dark and cold;
         Behind, all gloomy to behold;
         And stepping westward seemed to be                    
         A kind of 'heavenly’ destiny:
         I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound
         Of something without place or bound;
         And seemed to give me spiritual right
         To travel through that region bright.
 
         The voice was soft, and she who spake
         Was walking by her native lake:
         The salutation had to me
         The very sound of courtesy:
         Its power was felt; and while my eye              
         Was fixed upon the glowing Sky,
         The echo of the voice enwrought
         A human sweetness with the thought
         Of travelling through the world that lay
         Before me in my endless way.

MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND, 1803

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