THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, VOL. 8 (Completed)

TO THE CLOUDS [241]

Published 1842

[These verses were suggested while I was walking on the foot-road between Rydal Mount and Grasmere. The clouds were driving over the top of Nab-Scar across the vale: they set my thoughts a-going, and the rest followed almost immediately.--I.F.]

First published (1842) in "Poems chiefly of Early and Late Years,"afterwards included in the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.

Army of Clouds! ye wingèd Host in troops

Ascending from behind the motionless brow

Of that tall rock,[242] as from a hidden world,

O whither with[243] such eagerness of speed?

What seek ye, or what shun ye? of the gale[244]

Companions, fear ye to be left behind,

Or racing o'er[245] your blue ethereal field

Contend ye with each other? of the sea

Children, thus post ye over vale and height[246]

To sink upon your mother's lap--and rest?[247]

Or were ye rightlier hailed, when first mine eyes

Beheld in your impetuous march the likeness

Of a wide army pressing on to meet

Or overtake some unknown enemy?--

But your smooth motions suit a peaceful aim;

And Fancy, not less aptly pleased, compares

Your squadrons to an endless flight of birds

Aerial, upon due migration bound

To milder climes; or rather do ye urge

In caravan your hasty pilgrimage

To pause at last on more aspiring heights

Than these,[248] and utter your devotion there

With thunderous voice? Or are ye jubilant,

And would ye, tracking your proud lord the Sun,

Be present at his setting; or the pomp

Of Persian mornings would ye fill, and stand

Poising your splendours high above the heads

Of worshippers kneeling to their up-risen God?

Whence, whence, ye Clouds! this eagerness of speed?

Speak, silent creatures.--They are gone, are fled,

Buried together in yon gloomy mass

That loads the middle heaven; and clear and bright

And vacant doth the region which they thronged

Appear; a calm descent of sky conducting

Down to the unapproachable abyss,

Down to that hidden gulf from which they rose

To vanish--fleet as days and months and years,

Fleet as the generations of mankind,

Power, glory, empire, as the world itself,

The lingering world, when time hath ceased to be.