William Wordsworth

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the read more

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

And beauty, for confiding youth,
Those shocks of passion can prepare
That kill the bloom before its read more

And beauty, for confiding youth,
Those shocks of passion can prepare
That kill the bloom before its time,
And blanch, without the owner's crime,
The most resplendent hair.

And when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a read more

And when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew
Soul-animating strains--alas! too few.

How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

The feather, whence the pen
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from read more

The feather, whence the pen
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from an Angel's wing.