William Wordsworth

The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift,
That no philosophy can lift.

The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift,
That no philosophy can lift.

Lady of the Mere,
Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.

Lady of the Mere,
Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.

Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped--to gird
An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne
Whereon read more

Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped--to gird
An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne
Whereon he sits! whose deep foundations lie
In veneration and the people's love.

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.

My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is read more

My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.