William Wordsworth

Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,
And at my easement sing,
Though it should prove a farewell lay
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,
And at my easement sing,
Though it should prove a farewell lay
And this our parting spring.
. . . .
Then, little Bird, this boon confer,
Come, and my requiem sing,
Nor fail to be the harbinger
Of everlasting spring.

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling I read more

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.

Thou unassuming Commonplace
Of Nature.

Thou unassuming Commonplace
Of Nature.

And when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a read more

And when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew
Soul-animating strains--alas! too few.

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.