WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

The rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is the rose ;

The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare ;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair ; The sunshine is a glorious birth ; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound

As to the tabor's sound,

To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief,

And I again am strong :

The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay;

Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity,

And with the heart of May Doth every beast keep holiday ;

Thou Child of Joy,

Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy !

Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call

Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ;

My heart is at your festival,

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