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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
117
Thus
I
was
going
on
when
I
saw
the
shape
of
my
Beloved
in
the
road
at
a
little
distance.
We
turned
back
to
see
the
light
but
it
was
fading--almost
gone.
The
owls
hooted
when
we
sate
on
the
wall
at
the
foot
of
White
Moss;
the
sky
broke
more
and
more,
and
we
saw
the
moon
now
and
then.
John
Gill
passed
us
with
his
cart;
we
sate
on.
When
we
came
in
sight
of
our
own
dear
Grasmere,
the
vale
looked
fair
and
quiet
in
the
moonshine,
the
Church
was
there
and
all
the
cottages.
There
were
huge
slow-travelling
clouds
in
the
sky,
that
threw
large
masses
of
shade
upon
some
of
the
mountains.
We
walked
backwards
and
forwards,
between
home
and
Olliff's,
till
I
was
tired.
William
kindled,
and
began
to
write
the
poem.
We
carried
cloaks
into
the
orchard,
and
sate
a
while
there.
I
left
him,
and
he
nearly
finished
the
poem.
I
was
tired
to
death,
and
went
to
bed
before
him.
He
came
down
to
me,
and
read
the
poem
to
me
in
bed.
A
sailor
begged
here
to-day,
going
to
Glasgow.
He
spoke
cheerfully
in
a
sweet
tone.
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