Whom I already loved;—­not verily
  For their own sakes, but for the fields and hills 25
  Where was their occupation and abode. 
  And hence this Tale, while I was yet a Boy
  Careless of books, yet having felt the power
  Of Nature, by the gentle agency
  Of natural objects, led me on to feel 30
  For passions that were not my own, and think
  (At random and imperfectly indeed)
  On man, the heart of man, and human life. 
  Therefore, although it be a history
  Homely and rude, I will relate the same 35
  For the delight of a few natural hearts;
  And, with yet fonder feeling, for the sake
  Of youthful Poets, who among these hills
  Will be my second self when I am gone.

    Upon the forest-side in Grasmere Vale 40
  There dwelt a Shepherd, Michael was his name;
  An old man, stout of heart, and strong of limb. 
  His bodily frame had been from youth to age
  Of an unusual strength:  his mind was keen,
  Intense, and frugal, apt for all affairs, 45
  And in his shepherd’s calling he was prompt
  And watchful more than ordinary men. 
  Hence had he learned [6] the meaning of all winds,
  Of blasts of every tone; and, oftentimes,
  When others heeded not, He heard the South 50
  Make subterraneous music, like the noise
  Of bagpipers on distant Highland hills. 
  The Shepherd, at such warning, of his flock
  Bethought him, and he to himself would say,
  “The winds are now devising work for me!” 55
  And, truly, at all times, the storm, that drives
  The traveller to a shelter, summoned him
  Up to the mountains:  he had been alone
  Amid the heart of many thousand mists,
  That came to him, and left him, on the heights. 60
  So lived he till his eightieth year was past. 
  And grossly that man errs, who should suppose
  That the green valleys, and the streams and rocks,
  Were things indifferent to the Shepherd’s thoughts. 
  Fields, where with cheerful spirits he had breathed 65
  The common air; hills, which with vigorous step
  He had so often climbed; [7] which had impressed
  So many incidents upon his mind
  Of hardship, skill or courage, joy or fear;
  Which, like a book, preserved the memory 70
  Of the dumb animals, whom he had saved,
  Had fed or sheltered, linking to such acts
  The certainty of honourable gain;
  Those fields, those hills—­what could they less? had laid [8]
  Strong hold on his affections, were to him 75
  A pleasurable feeling of blind love,
  The pleasure which there is in life itself.