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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
133
Thursday,
29th.--
...
After
I
had
written
down
The
Tinker,
which
William
finished
this
morning,
Luff
called.
He
was
very
lame,
limped
into
the
kitchen.
He
came
on
a
little
pony.
We
then
went
to
John's
Grove,
sate
a
while
at
first;
afterwards
William
lay,
and
I
lay,
in
the
trench
under
the
fence--he
with
his
eyes
shut,
and
listening
to
the
waterfalls
and
the
birds.
There
was
no
one
waterfall
above
another--it
was
a
sound
of
waters
in
the
air--the
voice
of
the
air.
William
heard
me
breathing,
and
rustling
now
and
then,
but
we
both
lay
still,
and
unseen
by
one
another.
He
thought
that
it
would
be
so
sweet
thus
to
lie
in
the
grave,
to
hear
the
peaceful
sounds
of
the
earth,
and
just
to
know
that
our
dear
friends
were
near.
The
lake
was
still;
there
was
a
boat
out.
Silver
How
reflected
with
delicate
purple
and
yellowish
hues,
as
I
have
seen
spar;
lambs
on
the
island,
and
running
races
together
by
the
half-dozen,
in
the
round
field
near
us.
The
copses
greenish,
hawthorns
green,
...
cottages
smoking.
As
I
lay
down
on
the
grass,
I
observed
the
glittering
silver
line
on
the
ridge
of
the
backs
of
the
sheep,
owing
to
their
situation
respecting
the
sun,
which
made
them
look
beautiful,
but
with
something
of
strangeness,
like
animals
of
another
kind,
as
if
belonging
to
a
more
splendid
world....
I
got
mullins
and
pansies....
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