Boat Stealing by William Wordsworth

There in her mooring-place I left my bark,
And through the meadows homeward went with grave
And serious thoughts; and after I had seen
That spectacle, for many days my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being.

The moon was up, the lake was shining clear
Among the hoary mountains; from the shore
I pushed and struck the oars, and struck again
In cadence, and my little boat moved on
Just like a man who walks with stately step
Though bent on speed.

It was an act of stealth
And troubled pleasure.

They guided me: one evening led by them
I went alone into a shepherd's boat
A skiff, that to a willow-tree was tied
Within a rocky cave, its usual home.

The moon was up, the lake was shining clear
Among the hoary mountains; from the shore
I pushed and struck the oars, and struck again
In cadence, and my little boat moved on
Just like a man who walks with stately step
Though bent on speed.

She was an elfin pinnace; twenty times
I dipped my oars into the silent lake,
And as I rose upon the stroke my boat
Went heaving through the water like a swan ---
When, from behind that rocky steep, till then
The bound of the horizon, a huge cliff,
As if with voluntary power instinct,
Upreared its head.

A rocky steep uprose
Above the cavern of the willow-tree
And now, as suited one who proudly rowed
With his best skill, I fixed a steady view
Upon the top of that same craggy ridge,
The bound of the horizon --- far behind
Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.

Nor without the voice
Of mountain echoes did my boat move on,
Leaving behind her still on either side,
Small circles glittering idly in the moon,
Until they melted all into one track
Of sparkling light.

A rocky steep uprose
Above the cavern of the willow-tree
And now, as suited one who proudly rowed
With his best skill, I fixed a steady view
Upon the top of that same craggy ridge,
The bound of the horizon --- far behind
Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.

A rocky steep uprose
Above the cavern of the willow-tree
And now, as suited one who proudly rowed
With his best skill, I fixed a steady view
Upon the top of that same craggy ridge,
The bound of the horizon --- far behind
Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.

She was an elfin pinnace; twenty times
I dipped my oars into the silent lake,
And as I rose upon the stroke my boat
Went heaving through the water like a swan ---
When, from behind that rocky steep, till then
The bound of the horizon, a huge cliff,
As if with voluntary power instinct,
Upreared its head.

There in her mooring-place I left my bark,
And through the meadows homeward went with grave
And serious thoughts; and after I had seen
That spectacle, for many days my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being.

In my thoughts
There hung a darkness --- call it solitude,
Or blank desertion --- no familiar trees,
Of sea or sky, no clours of green fields
But huge and mighty forms that do not live
Like living men moved slowly through the mind
By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.

She was an elfin pinnace; twenty times
I dipped my oars into the silent lake,
And as I rose upon the stroke my boat
Went heaving through the water like a swan ---
When, from behind that rocky steep, till then
The bound of the horizon, a huge cliff,
As if with voluntary power instinct,
Upreared its head.

There in her mooring-place I left my bark,
And through the meadows homeward went with grave
And serious thoughts; and after I had seen
That spectacle, for many days my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being.

There in her mooring-place I left my bark,
And through the meadows homeward went with grave
And serious thoughts; and after I had seen
That spectacle, for many days my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being.

A rocky steep uprose
Above the cavern of the willow-tree
And now, as suited one who proudly rowed
With his best skill, I fixed a steady view
Upon the top of that same craggy ridge,
The bound of the horizon --- far behind
Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.

A rocky steep uprose
Above the cavern of the willow-tree
And now, as suited one who proudly rowed
With his best skill, I fixed a steady view
Upon the top of that same craggy ridge,
The bound of the horizon --- far behind
Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.

Nor without the voice
Of mountain echoes did my boat move on,
Leaving behind her still on either side,
Small circles glittering idly in the moon,
Until they melted all into one track
Of sparkling light.

I struck and struck again,
And, growing still in stature, the huge cliff
Rose up between me and the stars, and still,
With measured motion, like a living thing
Strode after me.

The moon was up, the lake was shining clear
Among the hoary mountains; from the shore
I pushed and struck the oars, and struck again
In cadence, and my little boat moved on
Just like a man who walks with stately step
Though bent on speed.

There in her mooring-place I left my bark,
And through the meadows homeward went with grave
And serious thoughts; and after I had seen
That spectacle, for many days my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being.

In my thoughts
There hung a darkness --- call it solitude,
Or blank desertion --- no familiar trees,
Of sea or sky, no clours of green fields
But huge and mighty forms that do not live
Like living men moved slowly through the mind
By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.

I struck and struck again,
And, growing still in stature, the huge cliff
Rose up between me and the stars, and still,
With measured motion, like a living thing
Strode after me.