The shining giver of the day diffuse His brightness o'er a tract of sea and land Gay as our spirits, free as our desires, As our enjoyments boundless. From those heights We dropped, at pleasure, into sylvan combs; And mossy seats, detained us side by side, WORDSWORTH LO, YONDER shed! observe its garden ground, With the low paling, form'd of wreck, around: There dwells a fisher: if you view his boat, With bed and barrel-'t is his house afloat; Look at his house, where ropes, nets, blocks abound, Tar, pitch, and oakum-'t is his boat aground: That space enclosed but little he regards, Spread o'er with relics of masts, sails, and yards; Fish by the wall, on spit of elder, rest, Of all his food the cheapest and the best, By his own labour caught, for his own hunger dress'd. Here our reformers come not; none object CRABBE How SWEET it is, when mother Fancy rocks The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood! An old place, full of many a lovely brood, Tall trees, green arbours, and ground flowers in flocks; And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks, Like to the bonny lass, who plays her pranks At Wakes and Fairs with wandering Mountebanks,When she stands cresting the Clown's head, and mocks The crowd beneath her. Verily I think, Such place to me is sometimes like a dream Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link, WORDSWORTH |