To be such a traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain river Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven, As full of gladness and as free of heaven, I, with my fate contented, will plod on, And hope for higher raptures, when life's day is done. THE KITTEN AND FALLING LEAVES WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (HAT way look, my infant, lo! What a pretty baby-show! See the kitten on the wall, Sporting with the leaves that fall, Withered leaves one - two and three From the lofty elder tree; Sylph or fairy hither tending, — There are many now now one Now they stop, and there are none. What intenseness of desire In her upward eye of fire! Has it in her power again; Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian conjurer; Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart. Were her antics played in the eye Over wealthy in the treasure WRITTEN IN MARCH WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE Cock is crowing, THE The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The ploughboy is whooping-anon-anon: There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone! TO A BUTTERFLY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH I'VE watch'd you now a full half-hour, And, little Butterfly! indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze This plot of orchard-ground is ours; Here rest your wings when they are weary; Here lodge as in a sanctuary! Come often to us, fear no wrong; Sit near us on the bough! We'll talk of sunshine and of song, And summer days when we were young; Sweet childish days that were as long |