William Wordsworth

Brook! whose society the poet seeks,
Intent his wasted spirits to renew;
And whom the curious painter read more

Brook! whose society the poet seeks,
Intent his wasted spirits to renew;
And whom the curious painter doth pursue
Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks,
And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks.

Behold, within the leafy shade,
Those bright blue eggs together laid!
On me the chance-discovered sight
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Behold, within the leafy shade,
Those bright blue eggs together laid!
On me the chance-discovered sight
Gleamed like a vision of delight.

But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.

Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, read more

Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will.
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still.

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.