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Part I.
PETER BELL.
19
He rov'd among the vales and streams,
In the green wood and hollow dell;
They were his dwellings night and day,—
But Nature ne'er could find the way
Into the heart of Peter Bell.
In vain, through every changeful year,
Did Nature lead him as before;
A primrose by a river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more.
Small change it made in Peter's heart
To see his gentle pannier'd train
With more than vernal pleasure feeding,
Where'er the tender grass was leading
Its earliest green along the lane.
