“The above, which was written some time ago, scarcely applies to the Poem, ‘Descriptive Sketches’, as it now stands.  The corrections, though numerous, are not, however, such as to prevent its retaining with propriety a place in the class of ‘Juvenile Pieces.’”

In the editions of 1845 and 1849, Wordsworth called his “Juvenile Pieces,” “Poems written in Youth.”—­Ed.

["Dear native regions,” etc., 1786, Hawkshead.  The beautiful image with which this poem concludes suggested itself to me while I was resting in a boat along with my companions under the shade of a magnificent row of sycamores, which then extended their branches from the shore of the promontory upon which stands the ancient, and at that time the more picturesque, Hall of Coniston, the Seat of the Le Flemings from very early times.  The Poem of which it was the conclusion, was of many hundred lines, and contained thoughts and images, most of which have been dispersed through my other writings.—­I.  F.]

In the editions 1815 to 1832, the title given to this poem was ’Extract from the conclusion of a Poem, composed upon leaving School’.  The row of sycamores at Hawkshead, referred to in the Fenwick note, no longer exists.

In the “Autobiographical Memoranda,” dictated by Wordsworth at Rydal Mount in November 1847, he says, " ....  I wrote, while yet a schoolboy, a long poem running upon my own adventures, and the scenery of the county in which I was brought up.  The only part of that poem which has been preserved is the conclusion of it, which stands at the beginning of my collected Poems.” [A]

In the eighth book of ‘The Prelude’, (lines 468-475), this fragment is introduced, and there Wordsworth tells us that once, when boating on Coniston Lake (Thurston-mere) in his boyhood, he entered under a grove of trees on its “western marge,” and glided “along the line of low-roofed water,” “as in a cloister.”  He adds,

while, in that shade Loitering, I watched the golden beams of light Flung from the setting sun, as they reposed In silent beauty on the naked ridge Of a high eastern hill—­thus flowed my thoughts In a pure stream of words fresh from the heart: 

Ed.

* * * * *

THE POEM

  Dear native regions, [B] I foretell,
  From what I feel at this farewell,
  That, wheresoe’er my steps may [1] tend,
  And whensoe’er my course shall end,

  If in that hour a single tie [2] 5
  Survive of local sympathy,
  My soul will cast the backward view,
  The longing look alone on you.

  Thus, while the Sun sinks down to rest
  Far in the regions of the west, 10
  Though to the vale no parting beam
  Be given, not one memorial gleam, [3]
  A lingering light he fondly throws [4]
  On the dear hills [5] where first he rose.