William Wordsworth

Lady of the Mere,
Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.

Lady of the Mere,
Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.

The feather, whence the pen
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from read more

The feather, whence the pen
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from an Angel's wing.

And when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a read more

And when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew
Soul-animating strains--alas! too few.

Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer.

Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer.

Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On read more

Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The Ploughboy is whooping--anon--anon!
There's joy in the mountains:
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone.