High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be,
Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
"I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD" (1807)
I wandered 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,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
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 What wealth the show to me had brought:
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,
And dances with the daffodils.
"SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT"
She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes are stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
I saw her upon nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin-liberty;
A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eyes serene The very pulse of the machine; A Being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove; Thou, who art victory and law
When empty terrors overawe;
From vain temptations dost set free;
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!
There are who ask not if thine eye
Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth:
Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot;
Who do thy work, and know it not.
Long may the kindly impulse last!
But thou, if they should totter, teach them to
Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security.
And they a blissful course may hold Even now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed;
Yet seek thy firm support according to their need.
I, loving freedom, and untried; No sport of every random gust, Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust: And oft, when in my heart was heard Thy timely mandate, I deferred
The task, in smoother walks to stray;
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I
no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control;
But in the quietness of thought: Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face:
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads;
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.
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