William Wordsworth

This flower that first appeared as summer's guest
Preserves her beauty 'mid autumnal leaves
And to her read more

This flower that first appeared as summer's guest
Preserves her beauty 'mid autumnal leaves
And to her mournful habits fondly cleaves.

Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little read more

Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English Robin;
The bird that comes about our doors
When autumn winds are sobbing?

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for read more

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years.

A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays,
And confident to-morrows.

A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays,
And confident to-morrows.

The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift,
That no philosophy can lift.

The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift,
That no philosophy can lift.