William Wordsworth

The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

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.

For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the read more

For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.

O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice;
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee read more

O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice;
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?

Sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.

Sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.