The complete poetical works of William Wordsworth . covetous of these wild rocks thy footsteps I will guideTo bowers in which thy fortune may be one of the bright Three become thy happy Bride. THE WISHING-GATE 1828 1829 Written at Rydal Mount, See also Wishing-gate De-stroyed.* In the vale of Grasmere, by the side of the old high-wayleading to Ambleside, is a gate, which, time out of mind, hasbeen called the Wishing-gate, from a belief that wishes formedor indulged there have a favourable issue. Hope rules a land for ever green: All powers that serve the bright-eyed Queen
The complete poetical works of William Wordsworth . covetous of these wild rocks thy footsteps I will guideTo bowers in which thy fortune may be one of the bright Three become thy happy Bride. THE WISHING-GATE 1828 1829 Written at Rydal Mount, See also Wishing-gate De-stroyed.* In the vale of Grasmere, by the side of the old high-wayleading to Ambleside, is a gate, which, time out of mind, hasbeen called the Wishing-gate, from a belief that wishes formedor indulged there have a favourable issue. Hope rules a land for ever green: All powers that serve the bright-eyed Queen Are confident and gay;Clouds at her bidding disappear;Points she to aught? — the bliss draws near, And Fancy smooths the way. Not such the land of Wishes — thereDwell fruitless day-dreams, lawless prayer, And thoughts with things at strife;Yet how forlorn, should ye superstitions of the hearU How poor, were human life! WTien magic lore abjured its did not forfeit one dear tender claim abate;[ 94 ] The Wishing-Gate. THE WISHING-GATE Witness this symbol of your near the public way,The rustic Wishing-gate! Inquire not if the faery raceShed kindly influence on the place, Ere northward they retired;If here a warrior left a spell,Panting for glory as he fell; Or here a saint expired. Enough that all around is fair,Composed with Natures finest care, And in her fondest love —Peace to embosom and content —To overawe the turbulent, The selfish to reprove. Yea! even the Stranger from on this moss-grown bar. Unknowing, and unknown,The infection of the ground for his Beloved — who makes All happiness her own. Then why should conscious Spirits fearThe mystic stirrings that are here,[95 ] THE WISHING-GATE The ancient faith disclaim?The local Genius neer befriendsDesires whose course in folly ends, Whose just reward is shame. Smile if thou wilt, but not in scorn,If some, by ceaseless pains outworn, Here crave
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