Maxioms by William Wordsworth
This flower that first appeared as summer's guest
Preserves her beauty 'mid autumnal leaves
And to her read more
This flower that first appeared as summer's guest
Preserves her beauty 'mid autumnal leaves
And to her mournful habits fondly cleaves.
There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon.
There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon.
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?
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!
