William+Wordsworth

[|"MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD"]
code My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; I could wish my days to be         Bound each to each by natural piety.

code

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.** Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.** What wealth the show to me had brought:** And dances with the daffodils.**
 * "Daffodils" (1804)**
 * I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud**
 * That floats on high o'er vales and hills,**
 * When all at once I saw a crowd,**
 * A host, of golden daffodils;**
 * Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
 * Continuous as the stars that shine**
 * And twinkle on the Milky Way,**
 * They stretch'd in never-ending line**
 * Along the margin of a bay:**
 * Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
 * The waves beside them danced; but they**
 * Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:**
 * A poet could not but be gay,**
 * In such a jocund company:**
 * I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
 * For oft, when on my couch I lie**
 * In vacant or in pensive mood,**
 * They flash upon that inward eye**
 * Which is the bliss of solitude;**
 * And then my heart with pleasure fills,


 * By [|William Wordsworth] (1770-1850).**

**Addressed.**
It is the first mild day of March: Each minute sweeter than before, The red-breast sings from the tall larch That stands beside our door.

There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare, And grass in the green field.

My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine) Now that our morning meal is done, Make haste, your morning task resign; Come forth and feel the sun.

Edward will come with you, and pray, Put on with speed your woodland dress, And bring no book, for this one day We'll give to idleness.

No joyless forms shall regulate Our living Calendar: We from to-day, my friend, will date The opening of the year.

Love, now an universal birth, From heart to heart is stealing, From earth to man, from man to earth, --It is the hour of feeling.

One moment now may give us more Than fifty years of reason; Our minds shall drink at every pore The spirit of the season.

Some silent laws our hearts may make, Which they shall long obey; We for the year to come may take Our temper from to-day.

And from the blessed power that rolls About, below, above; We'll frame the measure of our souls, They shall be tuned to love.

The come, my sister! come, I pray, With speed put on your woodland dress, And bring no book; for this one day We'll give to idleness.