William Wordsworth

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live.

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live.

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.

There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
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There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore.

We take no note of time
But from its loss.

We take no note of time
But from its loss.

Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
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Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
And in the light of truth thy
Bondman let me live!