WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Thus Nature spake The work was done How soon my Lucy's race was run!

She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene; The memory of what has been,

And never more will be.

�� ��A SLUMBER did my spirit seal; -** I had no human fears: She seem'd a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees ; Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course,

With rocks, and stones, and trees.

?2o. Upon Westminster Bridge

RTH has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill ; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep ;

And all that mighty heart is lying still !

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