large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb_26
large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb
English
5160
1085 And Peter turns his steps aside Into a shade of darksome trees, Where he sits down, he knows not how, With his hands pressed against his brow, His elbows on [116] his tremulous knees. AND PETER TURNS HIS STEPS ASIDE INTO A SHADE OF DARKSOME TREES WHERE HE SITS DOWN HE KNOWS NOT HOW WITH HIS HANDS PRESSED AGAINST HIS BROW HIS ELBOWS ON HIS TREMULOUS KNEES
ne, My little Rachel, you must run,-- Some willing neighbour must be found. 1060 "Make haste--my little Rachel--do, The first you meet with--bid him come, Ask him to lend his horse to-night, And this good Man, whom Heaven requite, Will help to bring the body home." 1065 Away goes Rachel weeping loud;-- An Infant, waked by her distress, Makes in the house a piteous cry; And Peter hears the Mother sigh, "Seven are they, and all fatherless!" 1070 And now is Peter taught to feel That man's heart is a holy thing; And Nature, through a world of death, Breathes into him a second breath, More searching than the breath of spring. 1075 Upon a stone the Woman sits In agony of silent grief-- From his own thoughts did Peter start; He longs to press her to his heart, From love that cannot find relief. 1080 But roused, as if through every limb Had past a sudden shock of dread, The Mother o'er the threshold flies, And up the cottage stairs [114] she hies, And on the pillow lays [115] her burning head.  ARM SUSTAINED THE WOMAN RISES FROM THE GROUND OH MERCY SOMETHING MUST BE DONE MY LITTLE RACHEL YOU MUST RUN SOME WILLING NEIGHBOUR MUST BE FOUND MAKE HASTE MY LITTLE RACHAEL DO THE FIRST YOU MEET WITH BID HIM COME ASK HIM TO LEND HIS HORSE TO NIGHT AND THIS GOOD MAN WHOM HEAVEN REQUITE WILL HELP TO BRING THE BODY HOME AWAY GOES RACHAEL WEEPING LOUD AN INFANT WAKED BY HER DISTRESS MAKES IN THE HOUSE A PITEOUS CRY AND PETER HEARS THE MOTHER SIGH SEVEN ARE THEY AND ALL FATHERLESS AND NOW IS PETER TAUGHT TO FEEL THAT MAN'S HEART IS A HOLY THING AND NATURE THROUGH A WORLD OF DEATH BREATHES INTO HIM A SECOND BREATH MORE SEARCHING THAN THE BREATH OF SPRING UPON A STONE THE WOMAN SITS IN AGONY OF SILENT GRIEF FROM HIS OWN THOUGHTS DID PETER START HE LONGS TO PRESS HER TO HIS HEART FROM LOVE THAT CANNOT FIND RELIEF BUT ROUSED AS IF THROUGH EVERY LIMB HAD PASSED A SUDDEN SHOCK OF DREAD THE MOTHER O'ER THE THRESHOLD FLIES AND UP THE COTTAGE STAIRS SHE HIES AND ON THE PILLOW LAYS HER BURNING HEAD
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