William Wordsworth

The primal duties shine aloft, like stars;
The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless
Are scattered read more

The primal duties shine aloft, like stars;
The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless
Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.

The intellectual power, through words and things,
Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way!

The intellectual power, through words and things,
Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way!

The child is father of the man.

The child is father of the man.

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

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

Sad fancies do we then affect,
In luxury of disrespect
To our own prodigal excess
read more

Sad fancies do we then affect,
In luxury of disrespect
To our own prodigal excess
Of too familiar happiness.