[Composed on the road between Nether Stowey and Alfoxden, extempore.  I
  distinctly recollect the very moment when I was struck, as
  described,—­’He looks up, the clouds are split,’ etc.—­I.  F.]

Classed by Wordsworth among his “Poems of the Imagination.”—­Ed.

* * * * *

   —­The sky is overcast
  With a continuous cloud of texture close,
  Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon,
  Which through that veil is indistinctly seen,
  A dull, contracted circle, yielding light 5
  So feebly spread, that not a shadow falls,
  Chequering the ground—­from rock, plant, tree, or tower. 
  At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam
  Startles the pensive traveller while [1] he treads
  His lonesome path, with unobserving eye 10
  Bent earthwards; he looks up—­the clouds are split
  Asunder,—­and above his head he sees
  The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens. 
  There, in a black-blue vault she sails along,
  Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small 15
  And sharp, and bright, [A] along the dark abyss
  Drive as she drives:  how fast they wheel away,
  Yet vanish not!—­the wind is in the tree,
  But they are silent;—­still they roll along
  Immeasurably distant; and the vault, 20
  Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,
  Still deepens its unfathomable depth. 
  At length the Vision closes; and the mind,
  Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,
  Which slowly settles into peaceful calm, 25
  Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: 

1827

... as ... 1815.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A:  The indebtedness of the Poet to his Sister is nowhere more conspicuous than in this Poem.  In Dorothy Wordsworth’s Alfoxden Journal the following occurs, under date 25th January 1798: 

“Went to Poole’s after tea.  The sky spread over with one continuous cloud, whitened by the light of the moon, which, though her dim shape was seen, did not throw forth so strong a light as to chequer the earth with shadows.  At once the clouds seemed to cleave asunder, and lift her in the centre of a black-blue vault.  She sailed along, followed by multitudes of stars, small, and bright, and sharp; their brightness seemed concentrated.”

Ed.]

* * * * *

WE ARE SEVEN

Composed 1798.—­Published 1798.