Animal Tranquillity and Decay

The little hedgerow birds,
That peck along the roads, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression: every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak
A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought.--He is insensibly subdued
To settled quiet: he is one by whom
All effort seems forgotten; one to whom
Long patience hath such mild composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect that the young behold
With envy, what the Old Man hardly feels.

More poems by William Wordsworth

Speak!

WHY art thou silent! Is thy love a plant / ; ; ;Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air

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After Thought

I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, / As being past away.--Vain sympathies!

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She Was a Phantom of Delight

She was a phantom of delight / When first she gleamed upon my sight;

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Desideria

SURPRISED by joy--impatient as the Wind / ; ; ;I turned to share the transport--O! with whom

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