Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.

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.

A simple child. That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death?

My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man.

Small service is true service, while it lasts.

Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.