Reverie Of Poor Susan, The

William Wordsworth

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, 
Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: 
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard 
In the silence of morning the song of the Bird. 

Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees 
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; 
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, 
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. 

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, 
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail; 
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's, 
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves. 

She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade, 
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade: 
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, 
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!

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