Maxioms by William Wordsworth
The bane of all that dread the Devil!
The bane of all that dread the Devil!
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.
Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil like bales unopen'd to the sun.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
When such are wanted.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
When such are wanted.
