William Wordsworth

The bane of all that dread the Devil!

The bane of all that dread the Devil!

Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little read more

Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English Robin;
The bird that comes about our doors
When autumn winds are sobbing?

That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.

That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.

And she hath smiles to earth unknown--
Smiles that with motion of their own
Do spread, and read more

And she hath smiles to earth unknown--
Smiles that with motion of their own
Do spread, and sink, and rise.

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.