William Wordsworth

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.

Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee,
And was the safeguard of the West.

Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee,
And was the safeguard of the West.

Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And read more

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!

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.

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.