William Wordsworth

Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
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Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And humbler growths as moved with one desire
Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire,
Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay
With his red stalks upon this sunny day!

We take no note of time
But from its loss.

We take no note of time
But from its loss.

How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

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!

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

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