And, when the Frost is in the sky,
          My branches are so fresh and gay
          That you might look at me [9] and say,
          This Plant can never die. 80

  IX “’The butterfly, all green and gold,
          To me hath often flown,
          Here in my blossoms to behold
          Wings lovely as his own. 
          When grass is chill with rain or dew, 85
          Beneath my shade, the mother-ewe
          Lies with her infant lamb; I see
          The love they to each other make,
          And the sweet joy which they partake,
          It is a joy to me.’ 90

  X “Her voice was blithe, her heart was light;
          The Broom might have pursued
          Her speech, until the stars of night
          Their journey had renewed;
          But in the branches of the oak 95
          Two ravens now began to croak
          Their nuptial song, a gladsome air;
          And to her own green bower the breeze
          That instant brought two stripling bees
          To rest, or [10] murmur there. 100

  XI “One night, my Children! from the north
          There came a furious blast; [11]
          At break of day I ventured forth,
          And near the cliff I passed. 
          The storm had fallen upon the Oak, 105
          And struck him with a mighty stroke,
          And whirled, and whirled him far away;
          And, in one hospitable cleft,
          The little careless Broom was left
          To live for many a day.” 110

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: 

1820.

  ... thundering, ... 1800.]

[Variant 2: 

1815.

  ... half giant and half sage, 1800.]

[Variant 3: 

1820.

  It came, you know, with fire and smoke
  And hither did it bend its way. 1800.

  And hitherward it bent its way. 1802.]

[Variant 4: 

1836.

  The Thing had better been asleep,
  Whatever thing it were,
  Or Breeze, or Bird, or fleece of Sheep,
  That first did plant you there. 1800.

  Or Breeze, or Bird, or Dog, or Sheep, 1802.]

[Variant 5: 

1820.

  That it is true, and more than true, 1800.]

[Variant 6: 

1827.

  ... be we young or old, 1800.]

[Variant 7: 

1836.

  Here spread ... 1800.]

[Variant 8: 

1815.

  The Spring for me a garland weaves
  Of yellow flowers and verdant leaves, 1800.]