Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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"HOW SWEET IT IS, WHEN MOTHER FANCY ROCKS"

          HOW sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks
          The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood!
          An old place, full of many a lovely brood,
          Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks;
          And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks,
          Like a bold Girl, who plays her agile pranks
          At Wakes and Fairs with wandering Mountebanks,--
          When she stands cresting the Clown's head, and mocks
          The crowd beneath her. Verily I think,
          Such place to me is sometimes like a dream                  10
          Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link,
          Enter through ears and eyesight, with such gleam
          Of all things, that at last in fear I shrink,
          And leap at once from the delicious stream.
                                                              1806.


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