Variant 1:
 
1849
... whom ...
1807
... who ...
 1827
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Variant 2:
 
1815
In and out, he darts about;
His little heart is throbbing:
Can this be the Bird, to man so good,
Our consecrated Robin!
That, after ...




1807
... Robin! Robin!
His little heart is throbbing;
Can this ...

MS.
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Variant 3:
 
1832
Did cover ...
1807
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Variant 4:
 
1815
... Like thine own breast
His beautiful wings in crimson are drest,
As if he were bone of thy bone.

MS.
Like the hues of thy breast
His beautiful wings in crimson are drest,
A brother he seems of thine own:

1807
... in the air together!
His beautiful bosom is drest,
In crimson as bright as thine own:


1832
The edition of 1836 resumes the text of 1815.

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Variant 5:
 
1836
If thou would'st be ...
 1807
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Footnote A:
 
The title, in the editions 1807 to 1820, was The Redbreast and the Butterfly. In the editions 1827 to 1843 it was The Redbreast and Butterfly. The final title was given in 1845.—Ed.

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Footnote B:
 
Compare Cowley:
'And Robin Redbreasts whom men praise,
For pious birds.'
Ed.

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Footnote C:
  See
Paradise Lost
, book XI., where Adam points out to Eve the ominous sign of the Eagle chasing "two Birds of gayest plume," and the gentle Hart and Hind pursued by their enemy.—W. W. 1815.


The passage in book XI. of Paradise Lost includes lines 185-90.—Ed.

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Contents 1802
Main Contents



To a Butterfly (2)

Composed April 20, 1802.—Published 1807

The Poem


[Written at the same time and place. The Orchard, Grasmere Town-end, 1801.—I. F.]


Included among the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.





The Poem


text variant footnote line number
I've watch'd you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!—not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.



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1807
... short ...
 1836
The text of 1845 reverts to the reading of 1807.

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1815
Stop here whenever you are weary,
And rest as in a sanctuary!
1807
And feed ...
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Note:
 
Wordsworth's date, as given to Miss Fenwick, is incorrect. In her Journal, April 20, 1802, Dorothy Wordsworth writes:
"William wrote a conclusion to the poem of The Butterfly, 'I've watch'd you now a full half-hour.'"
This, and the structure of the two poems, makes it probable that the latter was originally meant to be a sort of conclusion to the former (p. 283); but they were always printed as separate poems.

Many of the "flowers" in the orchard at Dove Cottage were planted by Dorothy Wordsworth, and some of the "trees" by William. The "summer days" of childhood are referred to in the previous poem, To a Butterfly, written on the 14th of March 1802.—Ed.



Contents 1802
Main Contents



Foresight

Composed April 28, 1802.—Published 1807

The Poem


[Also composed in the Orchard, Town-end, Grasmere.— I. F.]


Included among the "Poems referring to the Period of Childhood."—Ed.





The Poem


text variant footnote line number
That is work of waste and ruin—
Do as Charles and I are doing!
Strawberry-blossoms, one and all,
We must spare them—here are many:
Look at it—the flower is small,
Small and low, though fair as any:
Do not touch it! summers two
I am older, Anne, than you.
Pull the primrose, sister Anne!
Pull as many as you can.
—Here are daisies, take your fill;
Pansies, and the cuckoo-flower:
Of the lofty daffodil
Make your bed, or make your bower;
Fill your lap, and fill your bosom;
Only spare the strawberry-blossom!

Primroses, the Spring may love them—
Summer knows but little of them:
Violets, a barren kind,
Withered on the ground must lie;
Daisies leave no fruit behind
When the pretty flowerets die;
Pluck them, and another year
As many will be blowing here.

God has given a kindlier power
To the favoured strawberry-flower.
Hither soon as spring is fled
You and Charles and I will walk;
Lurking berries, ripe and red,
Then will hang on every stalk,
Each within its leafy bower;
And for that promise spare the flower!



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1815
That is work which I am rueing—
 1807
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1836
... and ...
1807
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1815
Violets, do what they will,
Wither'd on the ground must lie;
Daisies will be daisies still;
Daisies they must live and die:
Fill your lap, and fill your bosom,
Only spare the Strawberry-blossom!





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Variant 4:
 
This last stanza was added in the edition of 1815.
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Variant 5:
 
1836
When the months of spring are fled
Hither let us bend our walk;
1815
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Note:
 
The full title of this poem, in the editions of 1807 to 1832, was Foresight, or the Charge of a Child to his younger Companion, but it was originally known in the household as "Children gathering Flowers." The shortened title was adopted in 1836. The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal:
"Wednesday, 28th April (1802).—Copied the Prioress's Tale. William was in the orchard. I went to him; he worked away at his poem, though he was ill, and tired. I happened to say that when I was a child I would not have pulled a strawberry blossom; I left him, and wrote out the Manciple's Tale. At dinner time he came in with the poem of Children gathering Flowers, but it was not quite finished, and it kept him long from his dinner. It is now done. He is working at The Tinker."
At an earlier date in the same year,—Jan. 31st, 1802,—the following occurs:
"I found a strawberry blossom in a rock. The little slender flower had more courage than the green leaves, for they were but half expanded and half grown, but the blossom was spread full out. I uprooted it rashly, and I felt as if I had been committing an outrage; so I planted it again. It will have but a stormy life of it, but let it live if it can."
With this poem compare a parallel passage in Marvel's The Picture of T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers:
'But oh, young beauty of the woods,
Whom nature courts with fruits and flowers,
Gather the flowers, but spare the buds;
Lest Flora, angry at thy crime
To kill her infants in their prime,
Should quickly make the example yours;
And, ere we see,
Nip in the blossom all our hopes in thee.'
Ed.



Contents 1802
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To the Small CelandineA

Composed April 30, 1802.—Published 1807

The Poem


[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. It is remarkable that this flower, coming out so early in the spring as it does, and so bright and beautiful, and in such profusion, should not have been noticed earlier in English verse. What adds much to the interest that attends it is its habit of shutting itself up and opening out according to the degree of light and temperature of the air.—I. F.]


One of the "Poems of the Fancy." In the original MS. this poem is called To the lesser Celandine, but in the proof "small" was substituted for "lesser."

In Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal the following occurs, under date April 30, 1802:
"We came into the orchard directly after breakfast, and sat there. The lake was calm, the sky cloudy. William began to write the poem of The Celandine.... I walked backwards and forwards with William. He repeated his poem to me, then he got to work again, and would not give over."
Ed.





The Poem


text variant footnote line number
Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,
Let them live upon their praises;
Long as there's a sun that sets,
Primroses will have their glory;
Long as there are violets,
They will have a place in story:
There's a flower that shall be mine,
'Tis the little Celandine.

Eyes of some men travel far
For the finding of a star;
Up and down the heavens they go,
Men that keep a mighty rout!
I'm as great as they, I trow,
Since the day I found thee out,
Little Flower!—I'll make a stir,
Like a sage astronomer.

Modest, yet withal an Elf
Bold, and lavish of thyself;
Since we needs must first have met
I have seen thee, high and low,
Thirty years or more, and yet
'Twas a face I did not know;
Thou hast now, go where I may,
Fifty greetings in a day.

Ere a leaf is on a bush,
In the time before the thrush
Has a thought about her nest,
Thou wilt come with half a call,
Spreading out thy glossy breast
Like a careless Prodigal;
Telling tales about the sun,
When we've little warmth, or none.

Poets, vain men in their mood!
Travel with the multitude:
Never heed them; I aver
That they all are wanton wooers;
But the thrifty cottager,
Who stirs little out of doors,
Joys to spy thee near her home;
Spring is coming, Thou art come!

Comfort have thou of thy merit,
Kindly, unassuming Spirit!
Careless of thy neighbourhood,
Thou dost show thy pleasant face
On the moor, and in the wood,
In the lane;—there's not a place,
Howsoever mean it be,
But 'tis good enough for thee.

Ill befal the yellow flowers,
Children of the flaring hours!
Buttercups, that will be seen,
Whether we will see or no;
Others, too, of lofty mien;
They have done as worldlings do,
Taken praise that should be thine,
Little, humble Celandine!

Prophet of delight and mirth,
Ill-requited upon earth;
Herald of a mighty band,
Of a joyous train ensuing,
Serving at my heart's command,
Tasks that are no tasks renewing,
I will sing, as doth behove,
Hymns in praise of what I love!



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1836
... great ...
 1807
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1832
... it's ...
1807
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1836
Scorn'd and slighted ...
1807
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Variant 4:
 
1836
Singing at my heart's command,
In the lanes my thoughts pursuing,
1807
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Footnote A:
 Common Pilewort.—W. W. 1807.

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Footnote B:
 
The following stanza was inserted in the editions of 1836-1843:
'Drawn by what peculiar spell,
By what charm for sight or smell,
Do those wingèd dim-eyed creatures,
Labourers sent from waxen cells,
Settle on thy brilliant features,
In neglect of buds and bells
Opening daily at thy side,
By the season multiplied?'
In 1845 it was transferred to the following poem, where it will be found, with a change of text.—Ed.

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Contents 1802
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To the Same Flower

Composed May 1, 1802.—Published 1807

One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.





The Poem


text variant footnote line number
Pleasures newly found are sweet
When they lie about our feet:
February last, my heart
First at sight of thee was glad;
All unheard of as thou art,
Thou must needs, I think, have had,
Celandine! and long ago,
Praise of which I nothing know.

I have not a doubt but he,
Whosoe'er the man might be,
Who the first with pointed rays
(Workman worthy to be sainted)
Set the sign-board in a blaze,
When the rising sun he painted,
Took the fancy from a glance
At thy glittering countenance.

Soon as gentle breezes bring
News of winter's vanishing,
And the children build their bowers,
Sticking 'kerchief-plots of mould
All about with full-blown flowers,
Thick as sheep in shepherd's fold!
With the proudest thou art there,
Mantling in the tiny square.

Often have I sighed to measure
By myself a lonely pleasure,
Sighed to think, I read a book
Only read, perhaps, by me;
Yet I long could overlook
Thy bright coronet and Thee,
And thy arch and wily ways,
And thy store of other praise.

Blithe of heart, from week to week
Thou dost play at hide-and-seek;
While the patient primrose sits
Like a beggar in the cold,
Thou, a flower of wiser wits,
Slip'st into thy sheltering hold;
Liveliest of the vernal train
When ye all are out again.

Drawn by what peculiar spell,
By what charm of sight or smell,
Does the dim-eyed curious Bee,
Labouring for her waxen cells,
Fondly settle upon Thee
Prized above all buds and bells
Opening daily at thy side,
By the season multiplied?

Thou art not beyond the moon,
But a thing "beneath our shoon:"
Let the bold Discoverer thrid
In his bark the polar sea;
Rear who will a pyramid;
Praise it is enough for me,
If there be but three or four
Who will love my little Flower.



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