How shall I paint thee?–Be this naked stone
My seat, while I give way to such intent;
Pleased could my verse, a speaking monument,
Make to the eyes of men thy features known.
But as of all those tripping lambs not one
Outruns his fellows, so hath Nature lent
To thy beginning nought that doth present
Peculiar ground for hope to build upon.
To dignify the spot that gives thee birth,
No sign of hoar Antiquity's esteem
Appears, and none of modern Fortune's care;
Yet thou thyself hast round thee shed a gleam
Of brilliant moss, instinct with freshness rare;
Prompt offering to thy Foster-mother, Earth!
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - IV - Take, Cradled Nursling Of The Mountain
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - V - Sole Listener, Duddon! To The Breeze That Played
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - VI - Flowers
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - VII - Change Me, Some God, Into That Breathing Rose!
- The River Duddon - A Series Of Sonnets, 1820. - VIII - What Aspect Bore The Man Who Roved Or Fled
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