Strange Fits of Passion Have I Known

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Strange fits of passion have I known:

And I will dare to tell,

But in the Lover's ear alone,

What once to me befell.

 

When she I loved looked every day

Fresh as a rose in June,

I to her cottage bent my way,

Beneath an evening moon.

 

Upon the moon I fixed my eye,

All over the wide lea;

With quickening pace my horse drew nigh

Those paths so dear to me.

 

And now we reached the orchard plot;

And, as we climbed the hill,

The sinking moon to Lucy's cot

Came near, and nearer still.

 

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,

Kind Nature's gentlest boon!

And all the while my eyes I kept

On the descending moon.

 

My horse moved on; hoof after hoof

He raised, and never stopped:

When down behind the cottage roof,

At once, the bright moon dropped.

 

What foolish and wayward thoughts will slide

Into a Lover's head!

"O mercy!" to myself I cried,

"If Lucy should be dead!"

                                          William Wordsworth

 

 

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