Poem by William Wordsworth

Written in Very Early Youth

CALM is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass,
Is cropping audibly his later meal:
Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal
O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky.
Now, in this blank of things, a harmony,
Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal
That grief for which the senses still supply
Fresh food; for only then, when memory 
Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain
Those busy cares that would allay my pain;
Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel
The officious touch that makes me droop again.

1. Calais
2. Composed on the Eve of the Marriage of a Friend in the Vale of Grasmere
3. On Approaching Home after a Tour in Scotland
4. To ———
5. Methought I Saw the Footsteps of a Throne

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