Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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INSCRIPTIONS

IN A GARDEN OF SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT, BART.

          OFT is the medal faithful to its trust
          When temples, columns, towers, are laid in dust;
          And 'tis a common ordinance of fate
          That things obscure and small outlive the great:
          Hence, when yon mansion and the flowery trim
          Of this fair garden, and its alleys dim,
          And all its stately trees, are passed away,
          This little Niche, unconscious of decay,
          Perchance may still survive. And be it known
          That it was scooped within the living stone,--              10
          Not by the sluggish and ungrateful pains
          Of labourer plodding for his daily gains,
          But by an industry that wrought in love;
          With help from female hands, that proudly strove
          To aid the work, what time these walks and bowers
          Were shaped to cheer dark winter's lonely hours.
                                                              1811.


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