Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour;
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
written by William Wordsworth, published on Tue 11.02.2010 at 10:21
The little hedgerow birds,
That peck along the roads, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
written by William Wordsworth, published on Fri 10.22.2010 at 15:02
.A poet!--He hath put his heart to school,
Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff
written by William Wordsworth, published on Thu 10.21.2010 at 03:08
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
written by William Wordsworth, published on Sun 10.10.2010 at 18:42
Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
written by William Wordsworth, published on Wed 09.22.2010 at 14:36
Before I see another day,
Oh let my body die away!
In sleep I heard the northern gleams;
The stars, they were among my dreams;