William Wordsworth

The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witching of the read more

The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witching of the soft blue sky!

And hear the mighty stream of tendency
Uttering, for elevation of our thought,
A clear sonorous voice, read more

And hear the mighty stream of tendency
Uttering, for elevation of our thought,
A clear sonorous voice, inaudible
To the vast multitude.

I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That even read more

I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That even there was intercourse
Between the living and the dead.

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live.

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live.

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.