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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
125
We
observed
arches
in
the
water,
occasioned
by
the
large
stones
sending
it
down
in
two
streams.
A
sheep
came
plunging
through
the
river,
stumbled
up
the
bank,
and
passed
close
to
us.
It
had
been
frightened
by
an
insignificant
little
dog
on
the
other
side.
Its
fleece
dropped
a
glittering
shower
under
its
belly.
Primroses
by
the
road-side,
pile
wort
that
shone
like
stars
of
gold
in
the
sun,
violets,
strawberries,
retired
and
half-buried
among
the
grass.
When
we
came
to
the
foot
of
Brothers
Water,
I
left
William
sitting
on
the
bridge,
and
went
along
the
path
on
the
right
side
of
the
lake
through
the
wood.
I
was
delighted
with
what
I
saw.
The
water
under
the
boughs
of
the
bare
old
trees,
the
simplicity
of
the
mountains,
and
the
exquisite
beauty
of
the
path.
There
was
one
grey
cottage.
I
repeated
The
Glow-worm,
as
I
walked
along.
I
hung
over
the
gate,
and
thought
I
could
have
stayed
for
ever.
When
I
returned,
I
found
William
writing
a
poem
descriptive
of
the
sights
and
sounds
we
saw
and
heard.[56]
There
was
the
gentle
flowing
of
the
stream,
the
glittering,
lively
lake,
green
fields
without
a
living
creature
to
be
seen
on
them;
behind
us,
a
flat
pasture
with
forty-two
cattle
feeding;
to
our
left,
the
road
leading
to
the
hamlet.
No
smoke
there,
the
sun
shone
on
the
bare
roofs.
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