Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
308
Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
148
And
everlasting
longings
for
the
lost.
...
William
is
now
sleeping
with
the
window
open,
lying
on
the
window
seat.
The
thrush
is
singing.
There
are,
I
do
believe,
a
thousand
buds
on
the
honeysuckle
tree,
all
small
and
far
from
blowing,
save
one
that
is
retired
behind
the
twigs
close
to
the
wall,
and
as
snug
as
a
bird
nest.
John's
rose
tree
is
very
beautiful,
blended
with
the
honeysuckle.
Yesterday
morning
William
walked
as
far
as
the
Swan
with
Aggy
Fisher,
who
was
going
to
attend
upon
Goan's
dying
infant.
She
said,
"There
are
many
heavier
crosses
than
the
death
of
an
infant;"
and
went
on,
"There
was
a
woman
in
this
vale
who
buried
four
grown-up
children
in
one
year,
and
I
have
heard
her
say,
when
many
years
were
gone
by,
that
she
had
more
pleasure
in
thinking
of
those
four
than
of
her
living
children,
for
as
children
get
up
and
have
families
of
their
own,
their
duty
to
their
parents
wears
out
and
weakens.
She
could
trip
lightly
by
the
graves
of
those
who
died
when
they
were
young
...
as
she
went
to
church
on
a
Sunday."
...
A
very
affecting
letter
came
from
M.
H.,
while
I
was
sitting
in
the
window
reading
Milton's
Penseroso
to
William.
I
answered
this
letter
before
I
went
to
bed.
Saturday,
5th.--A
fine
showery
morning.
I
made
both
pies
and
bread;
but
we
first
walked
into
Easedale,
and
sate
under
the
oak
trees,
upon
the
mossy
stones.
There
were
one
or
two
slight
showers.
The
gowans
were
flourishing
along
the
banks
of
the
stream.
The
strawberry
flower
hanging
over
the
brook;
all
things
soft
and
green.
In
the
afternoon
William
sate
in
the
orchard.
I
went
there;
was
tired,
and
fell
asleep.
William
began
a
letter
to
John
Wilson.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
