Lucy Iii

William Wordsworth

I travell’d among unknown men,
  In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
  What love I bore to thee.

’Tis past, that melancholy dream!
  Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
  To love thee more and more.

Among thy mountains did I feel
  The joy of my desire;
And she I cherish’d turn’d her wheel
  Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings showed, thy nights conceal’d,
  The bowers where Lucy played;
And thine too is the last green field
  That Lucy’s eyes survey’d.

Next 10 Poems

• William Wordsworth : Lucy Iv
• William Wordsworth : Lucy V
• William Wordsworth : Michael: A Pastoral Poem
• William Wordsworth : Minstrels
• William Wordsworth : Most Sweet It Is
• William Wordsworth : Mother's Return, The
• William Wordsworth : Mutability
• William Wordsworth : November, 1806
• William Wordsworth : Nutting
• William Wordsworth : Oak And The Broom, The: A Pastoral Poem

Previous 10 Poems

• William Wordsworth : Lucy Ii
• William Wordsworth : Lucy I
• William Wordsworth : Lucy Gray
• William Wordsworth : London, 1802
• William Wordsworth : Lines Written In Early Spring
• William Wordsworth : Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis
• William Wordsworth : Lines Left Upon A Seat In A Yew-tree
• William Wordsworth : Lines Composed A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey
• William Wordsworth : Last Of The Flock, The
• William Wordsworth : Laodamia