Oh what a Wreck! how changed in mien and speech!
Yet, though dread Powers, that work in mystery, spin
Entanglings of the brain; though shadows stretch
O’er the chilled heart reflect; far, far within
Hers is a holy Being, freed from Sin.
She is not what she seems, a forlorn wretch;
But delegated Spirits comfort fetch
To Her from heights that Reason may not win.
Like Children, She is privileged to hold
Divine communion; both do live and move,
Whate’er to shallow Faith their ways unfold,
Inly illumined by Heaven’s pitying love;
Love pitying innocence not long to last,
In them, in Her our sins and sorrows past.
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- On A Celebrated Event In Ancient History
- On A High Part Of The Coast Of Cumberland - Easter Sunday, April 7 - The Author's Sixty-Third Birthday
- On A Portrait Of I. F., Painted By Margaret Gillies
- On A Portrait Of The Duke Of Wellington Upon The Field Of Waterloo, By Haydon
- On Entering Douglas Bay, Isle Of Man
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