Me this uncharted 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.
William WordsworthTo me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
William WordsworthIt is the 1st mild day of March. Each minute sweeter than before... there is a blessing in the air.
William WordsworthShe was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
William Wordsworth