William Wordsworth

Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were read more

Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.

I heard a Stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale, this very day;
His voice was buried read more

I heard a Stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale, this very day;
His voice was buried among trees,
Yet to be come at by the breeze:
He did not cease; but cooed--and cooed:
And somewhat pensively he wooed:
He sang of love, with quiet blending,
Slow to begin, and never ending;
Of serious faith, and inward glee;
That was the song,--the song for me!

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, read more

Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will.
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still.

Life's cares are comforts; such by heaven design'd
He that has none, must make them or be wretched.

Life's cares are comforts; such by heaven design'd
He that has none, must make them or be wretched.