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How profitless the relics that we cull,Troubling the last holds of ambitious Rome,Unless they chasten fancies that presumeToo high, or idle agitations lull!Of the world's flatteries if the brain be full,To have no seat for thought were better doom,Like this old helmet, or the eyeless skullOf him who gloried in its nodding plume.Heaven out of view, our wishes what are they?Our … [Read more...] about Roman Antiquities – From The Roman Station At Old Penrith, By: William Wordsworth

If the whole weight of what we think and feel,Save only far as thought and feeling blendWith action, were as nothing, patriot Friend!From thy remonstrance would be no appeal;But to promote and fortify the wealOf our own Being is her paramount end;A truth which they alone shall comprehendWho shun the mischief which they cannot heal.Peace in these feverish times is sovereign … [Read more...] about Retirement, By: William Wordsworth

Doubling and doubling with laborious walk,Who, that has gained at length the wished-for Height,This brief this simple wayside Call can slight,And rests not thankful? Whether cheered by talkWith some loved friend, or by the unseen hawkWhistling to clouds and sky-born streams that shine,At the sun's outbreak, as with light divine,Ere they descend to nourish root and stalkOf … [Read more...] about Rest And Be Thankful! – At The Head Of Glencroe, By: William Wordsworth

There was a roaring in the wind all night;The rain came heavily and fell in floods;But now the sun is rising calm and bright;The birds are singing in the distant woods;Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.All things that love the sun are out of doors;The sky rejoices in … [Read more...] about Resolution And Independence, By: William Wordsworth

The fields which with covetous spirit we sold,Those beautiful fields, the delight of the day,Would have brought us more good than a burthen of gold,Could we but have been as contented as they. When the troublesome Tempter beset us, said I,"Let him come, with his purse proudly grasped in his hand;But, Allan, be true to me, Allan, we'll dieBefore he shall go with an inch of … [Read more...] about Repentance, By: William Wordsworth