William Wordsworth

Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, read more

Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will.
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still.

Two voices are there; one is of the sea,
One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.

Two voices are there; one is of the sea,
One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.

But hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.

But hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.

A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.

A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.

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.