A fingering slave, — All Writings Of William Wordsworth

"Lives there a man whose sole delights Are trivial pomp and city noise, Hardening a heart that loathes or slights What every natural heart enjoys?"

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

"Much converse do I find in thee, Historian of my infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bringst, gay creature as thou art! A solemn image to my heart."

"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! Theres joy in the mountains: Theres life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone."

"Hail to thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion! Thou, linnet! in thy green array, Presiding spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May; And this is thy dominion."

"I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee."