I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

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.

Free as a bird to settle where I will.

I've watched you now a full half-hour; Self-poised upon that yellow flower And, little Butterfly! Indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless! - not frozen seas More motionless! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again!

Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.

That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.

Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.