William Wordsworth

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!

Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove.

Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove.

Methought I say the footsteps of a throne.
- William Wordsworth,

Methought I say the footsteps of a throne.
- William Wordsworth,

A famous man is Robin Hood
The English ballad-singer's joy.

A famous man is Robin Hood
The English ballad-singer's joy.

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.