William Wordsworth

Small service is true service while it lasts:
Of humblest friends, bright Creature! scorn not one;
The read more

Small service is true service while it lasts:
Of humblest friends, bright Creature! scorn not one;
The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew drop from the Sun.

Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil like bales unopen'd to the sun.

Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil like bales unopen'd to the sun.

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling I read more

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.

He could afford to suffer
With those whom he saw suffer.

He could afford to suffer
With those whom he saw suffer.