William Wordsworth

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.

The child is father of the man.

The child is father of the man.

The intellectual power, through words and things,
Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way!

The intellectual power, through words and things,
Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way!

But hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.

But hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long read more

I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.