ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH I HAVE a boy of five years old; His face is fair and fresh to see; His limbs are cast in beautyÕs mold And dearly he loves me. One morn we strolled on our dry walk, Or quiet home all full in view, And held such intermitted talk As we are wont to do. My thoughts on former pleasures ran; I thought of Kilve's delightful shore, Our pleasant home when spring began, A long, long year before. A day it was when I could bear Some fond regrets to entertain; With so much happiness to spare, I could not feel a pain. The green earth echoed to the feet Of lambs that bounded through the glade, From shade to sunshine, and as fleet From sunshine back to shade. Birds warbled round me and each trace Of inward sadness had its charm; Kilve, thought I, was a favoured place, And so is Liswyn farm. My boy beside me