William Wordsworth

Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,
And at my easement sing,
Though it should prove a farewell lay
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,
And at my easement sing,
Though it should prove a farewell lay
And this our parting spring.
. . . .
Then, little Bird, this boon confer,
Come, and my requiem sing,
Nor fail to be the harbinger
Of everlasting spring.

The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration.

The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration.

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.

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.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none read more

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.