The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'

Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.

A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.

'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk; and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.

Wisdom married to immortal verse.