Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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TO ROTHA Q----

          ROTHA, my Spiritual Child! this head was grey
          When at the sacred font for thee I stood;
          Pledged till thou reach the verge of womanhood,
          And shalt become thy own sufficient stay:
          Too late, I feel, sweet Orphan! was the day
          For stedfast hope the contract to fulfil;
          Yet shall my blessing hover o'er thee still,
          Embodied in the music of this Lay,
          Breathed forth beside the peaceful mountain Stream
          Whose murmur soothed thy languid Mother's ear               10
          After her throes, this Stream of name more dear
          Since thou dost bear it,--a memorial theme
          For others; for thy future self, a spell
          To summon fancies out of Time's dark cell.
                                                              1827.


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