M THE RAINBOW WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Y heart leaps up when I behold So was it when my life began; The child is father of the man; THE REDBREAST CHASING THE BUTTERFLY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH RT thou the bird whom Man loves best, The bird that comes about our doors And Russia far inland? The bird that by some name or other And see this sight beneath the skies, Under the branches of the tree: In and out he darts about; Can this be the bird to man so good, That after their bewildering, Covered with leaves the little children, So painfully in the wood? What ailed thee, robin, that thou couldst pursue A beautiful creature, That is gentle by nature? Beneath the Summer sky, From flower to flower let him fly; 'Tis all that he wishes to do. The cheerer, Thou, of our indoor sadness, AT THE REVERY OF POOR SUSAN WILLIAM WORDSWORTH T the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the Bird. 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade, THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT THE DOROTHY WORDSWORTH HE days are cold, the nights are long, Then hush again upon my breast; All merry things are now at rest, The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, Nay! start not at that sparkling light, And wake when it is day. |