To a Sexton, by William Wordsworth
Let thy wheel-barrow alone
Wherefore, Sexton, piling still
In thy bone-house bone on bone?
'...
Let thy wheel-barrow alone
Wherefore, Sexton, piling still
In thy bone-house bone on bone?
'...
Up with me! Up with me into the clouds!
For thy song, Lark, is strong;
Up with me, up with ...
O thou! Whose fancies from afar are brought;
Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel,
And f...
Amid the smoke of cities did you pass
The time of early youth; and there you learned,
From yea...
Our walk was far among the ancient trees:
There was no road, nor any woodman's path;
But a t...
It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before
The redbreast sings from th...
O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice.
O Cuckoo! Shall I call thee Bird,
...
Who fancied what a pretty sight
This Rock would be if edged around
With living snow-drops? Circ...
I "Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf, "
Exclaimed an angry Voice,
"Nor dare to thrust thy f...
A simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What shoul...
When I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
When m...
When, to the attractions of the busy world,
Preferring studious leisure, I had chosen
A habi...
A whirl-blast from behind the hill
Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound;
Thenall at once ...
Calm is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
The horse alo...
"Her divine skill taught me this,
That from every thing I saw
I could some instruction draw,
...