Poem by William Wordsworth

London, 1802

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour;
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: alar, 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 thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

1. Monastery of Old Bangor
2. Processions
3. On Revisiting Dunolly Castle
4. For the Spot Where the Hermitage Stood on St. Herbert’s Island, Derwent Water
5. Roman Antiquities

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