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Three years she grew in sun and shower,

Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower

 On earth was never sown;

This Child I to myself will take;

She shall be mine, and I will make

 A Lady of my own.

"Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse: and with me

 The Girl, in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,

Shall feel an overseeing power

 To kindle or restrain.

"She shall be sportive as the fawn

That wild with glee across the lawn

 Or up the mountain springs;

And hers shall be the breathing balm,

And hers the silence and the calm

 Of mute insensate things.

"The floating clouds their state shall lend

To her; for her the willow bend;

 Nor shall she fail to see

Even in the motions of the Storm

Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form

 By silent sympathy.

"The stars of midnight shall be dear

To her; and she shall lean her ear

 In many a secret place

Where rivulets dance their wayward round,

And beauty born of murmuring sound

 Shall pass into her face.

"And vital feelings of delight

Shall rear her form to stately height,

 Her virgin bosom swell;

Such thoughts to Lucy I will give

While she and I together live

 Here in this happy dell."

Thus Nature spake—The work was done—

How soon my Lucy's race was run!

 She died, and left to me

This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;

The memory of what has been,

 And never more will be.