WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
I listen'd, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
��545 Perfect Woman
- HE was a phantom of delight
When first she gleairTd upon my sight, A lovely apparition, bent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as starb of twilight fair, Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn, A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too'
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty,
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,
For transient sorrows, simple wile^,
Praise, blame, love, kibses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine,
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