The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth Volume Ii Part 54

To the neighbours he went,--all were free with their money; For his hive had so long been replenished with honey, That they dreamt not of dearth;--He continued his rounds, [11] 35 Knocked here-and knocked there, pounds still adding to pounds.

He paid what he could with his [12] ill-gotten pelf, And something, it might be, reserved for himself: [13]

Then (what is too true) without hinting a word, Turned his back on the country--and off like a bird. 40

You lift up your eyes!--but I guess that you frame A judgment too harsh of the sin and the shame; [14]

In him it was scarcely [15] a business of art, For this he did all in the _ease_ [16] of his heart.

To London--a sad emigration I ween--45 With his grey hairs he went from the brook [17] and the green; And there, with small wealth but his legs and his hands, As lonely he stood as [18] a crow on the sands.

All trades, as need [19] was, did old Adam a.s.sume,-- Served as stable-boy, errand-boy, porter, and groom; 50 But nature is gracious, necessity kind, And, in spite of the shame that may lurk in his mind, [20]

[21]

He seems ten birthdays younger, is green and is stout; [22]

Twice as fast as before does his blood run about; You would [23] say that each hair of his beard was alive, 55 And his fingers are busy as bees in a hive.

For he's not like an Old Man that leisurely goes About work that he knows, [24] in a track that he knows; But often his mind is compelled to demur, And you guess that the more then his body must stir. 60

In the throng of the town like a stranger is he, Like one whose own country's far over the sea; And Nature, while through the great city he hies, Full ten times a day takes his heart by surprise.

This gives him the fancy of one that is young, 65 More of soul in his face than of words on [25] his tongue; Like a maiden of twenty he trembles and sighs, And tears of fifteen will come [26] into his eyes.

What's a tempest to him, or the dry parching heats?

Yet he watches the clouds that pa.s.s over the streets; 70 With a look of such earnestness often will stand, [27]

You might think he'd twelve reapers at work in the Strand.

Where proud Covent-garden, in desolate hours Of snow and h.o.a.r-frost, spreads her fruits and her flowers, Old Adam will smile at the pains that have made 75 Poor winter look fine in such strange masquerade. [28]

[29]

'Mid coaches and chariots, a waggon of straw, Like a magnet, the heart of old Adam can draw; With a thousand soft pictures his memory will teem, And his hearing is touched with the sounds of a dream. 80

Up the Haymarket hill he oft whistles his way, Thrusts his hands in a waggon, and smells at the hay; [30]

He thinks of the fields he so often hath mown, And is happy as if the rich freight were his own. [31]

But chiefly to Smithfield he loves to repair,--85 If you pa.s.s by at morning, you'll meet with him there.

The breath of the cows you may see him inhale, And his heart all the while is in Tilsbury Vale.

Now farewell, old Adam! when low [32] thou art laid, May one blade of gra.s.s spring over [33] thy head; 90 And I hope that thy grave, wheresoever it be, Will hear the wind sigh through the leaves of a tree.

With this picture, which was taken from real life, compare the imaginative one of 'The Reverie of Poor Susan' [vol. i. p. 226]; and see (to make up the deficiencies of this cla.s.s) 'The Excursion, pa.s.sim'.--W.

W. 1837.

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

Erect as a sunflower he stands, and the streak Of the unfaded rose is expressed on his cheek. 1815.

... still enlivens his cheek. 1827.]

[Variant 2:

1840.

There fashion'd that countenance, which, in spite of a stain 1815.]

[Variant 3:

There's an old man in London, the prime of old men, You may hunt for his match through ten thousand and ten, Of prop or of staff, does he walk, does he run, No more need has he than a flow'r of the sun. 1800.

This stanza appeared only in 1800, occupying the place of the three first stanzas in the final text.]

[Variant 4:

1815.

... name ... 1800.]

[Variant 5:

1815.

Was the Top of the Country, ... 1800.]

[Variant 6:

1827.

Not less than the skill of an Exchequer Teller Could count the shoes worn on the steps of his cellar. 1800.

How oft have I heard in sweet Tilsbury Vale Of the silver-rimmed horn whence he dealt his good ale. 1815.]

[Variant 7:

1815.