William Wordsworth

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.

My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is read more

My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

Sad fancies do we then affect,
In luxury of disrespect
To our own prodigal excess
read more

Sad fancies do we then affect,
In luxury of disrespect
To our own prodigal excess
Of too familiar happiness.

Thought and theory must precede all salutary action; yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.

Thought and theory must precede all salutary action; yet action is nobler in itself than either thought or theory.

Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet read more

Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart.