William Wordsworth

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

How commentators each dark passage shun,
And hold their farthing candle to the sun.

How commentators each dark passage shun,
And hold their farthing candle to the sun.

We take no note of time
But from its loss.

We take no note of time
But from its loss.

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.

A cheerful life is what the Muses love,
A soaring spirit is their prime delight.

A cheerful life is what the Muses love,
A soaring spirit is their prime delight.