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Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart.
Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802. By William Wordsworth. Earth has not any thing to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by. A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear. The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
1770 –. 1850. The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
