The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
Whether we be young or old,Our destiny, our being's heart and home,Is with infinitude, and only there;With hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.
Wisdom and spirit of the Universe!
Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light