|  | Sonnet for William  
Wordworth 
 
 SONNET.
 
 On my first and only visit to the Poet Wordsworth, shortly  
previous to his death, when he regardfully presented me with 
a walking-stick, which had been an old and much-used  
favourite.
 
 WORDSWORTH, bard of the heart! my pulse beat high
 To meet the tearful welcome in thine eye.
 We ne'er before, and ne'er again could meet;
 The meeting tender, and the greeting sweet.
 Each had the other known, but as a dream:
 Our sympathy soon kindled with our theme -
 COLERIDGE:- the wonders of whose bygone days
 Each had in ample share the power to praise.
 Thine were his later years: mine, when as boys
 We tasted first of life, it's cares, and joys.
 We parted: and at parting paused to bless.
 Ere the deep farewell of our last caress
 A staff thy gift, as with a friend to roam. -
 Ah! No. It bides, for aye, the glory of my home.
 C. V. LE GRICE.
 Trereise, Cornwall.
 
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