AN EPITAPH ON A ROBIN REDBREAST TRE SAMUEL ROGERS READ lightly here, for here, 'tis said, TO THE CUCKOO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH BLITHE new-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice: While I am lying on the grass, Though babbling only to the vale, Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days I listen'd to; that cry Which made me look a thousand ways, To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still long'd for, never seen! And I can listen to thee yet; O blessed bird! the earth we pace, Again appears to be An unsubstantial, fairy place, That is fit home for thee! I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD WILLIAM WORDSWORTH WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, A host of golden daffodils; Continuous as the stars that shine The waves beside them danced, but they In such a jocund company; I gazed, and gazed, but little thought For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, TO A SKYLARK WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LJP with me! up with me into the clouds! Up with me, up with me into the clouds! With clouds and sky about thee ringing, That spot which seems so to thy mind! I have walked through wildernesses dreary, And to-day my heart is weary; Had I now the wings of a Faery, Up to thee would I fly. There is madness about thee, and joy divine Lift me, guide me high and high Joyous as morning, Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, And though little troubled with sloth, |