There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
  And islands of Winander!—­many a time,
  At evening, when the earliest stars began [1]
  To move along the edges of the hills,
  Rising or setting, would he stand alone, 5
  Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake;
  And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands
  Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth
  Uplifted, he, as through an instrument,
  Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, 10
  That they might answer him.—­And they would shout
  Across the watery vale, and shout again,
  Responsive to his call,—­with quivering peals,
  And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud
  Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild 15
  Of jocund din! [2] And, when there came a pause
  Of silence such as baffled his best skill:  [3]
  Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
  Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
  Has carried far into his heart the voice 20
  Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene
  Would enter unawares into his mind
  With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,
  Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
  Into the bosom of the steady lake. 25

    This boy was taken from his mates, and died [4]
  In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old. [5]
  Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale
  Where he was born and bred:  the church-yard hangs [6]
  Upon a slope above the village-school; 30
  And, through that church-yard when my way has led
  On summer-evenings, I believe, that there [7]
  A long half-hour together I have stood
  Mute—­looking at the grave in which he lies![A] [8]

Wordsworth sent this fragment in MS. to Coleridge, who was then living at Ratzeburg, and Coleridge wrote in reply on the 10th Dec. 1798: 

“The blank lines gave me as much direct pleasure as was possible in the general bustle of pleasure with which I received and read your letter.  I observed, I remember, that the ‘fingers woven,’ etc., only puzzled me; and though I liked the twelve or fourteen first lines very well, yet I liked the remainder much better.  Well, now I have read them again, they are very beautiful, and leave an affecting impression.  That

    ’uncertain heaven received
    Into the bosom of the steady lake,’

  I should have recognised anywhere; and had I met these lines, running
  wild in the deserts of Arabia, I should have instantly screamed out
  ’Wordsworth’!”

The MS. copy of this poem sent to Coleridge probably lacked the explanatory line,

  ‘Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth,’

as another MS., in the possession of the poet’s grandson, lacks it; and the line was possibly added—­as the late Mr. Dykes Campbell suggested—­“in deference to S. T. C.’s expression of puzzlement.”