...............London, 1802..................
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee; she is a fen
Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh raise us up, return to us again
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet they heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
William Wordsworth
2 comments:
that's a lot of mornings (37 by my count) in a row that your book has fallen open to this page. perhaps the book needs re-bound!
Yeah. Not so much to say right yet. Have a prompt?
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