e that is often so dreadfully abused. The crescent moon,
which makes such a figure in the prologue, assumed this character one
evening while I was watching its beauty in front of Alfoxden House. I
intended this poem for the volume before spoken of, but it was not
published for more than twenty years afterwards. The worship of the
Methodists, or Ranters, is often heard during the stillness of the
summer evening, in the country, with affecting accompaniments of rural
beauty. In both the psalmody and voice of the preacher there is, not
unfrequently, much solemnity likely to impress the feelings of the
rudest characters under favourable circumstances.--I. F.]

Classed by Wordsworth among his "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.

PROLOGUE

There's something in a flying horse,
There's something [1] in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like [2] the crescent-moon. 5

And now I _have_ a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon:
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon! 10

The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in [3] your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me! 15

Meanwhile untroubled I admire [4]
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you! 20

Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds [5] we dive,
Each is contented with the other. 25

Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars. 30

Up goes my Boat among [6] the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright! 35

The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!