London, 1802

William Wordsworth

Milton! thou should’st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, 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.

Next 10 Poems

• William Wordsworth : Lucy Gray
• William Wordsworth : Lucy I
• William Wordsworth : Lucy Ii
• William Wordsworth : Lucy Iii
• William Wordsworth : Lucy Iv
• William Wordsworth : Lucy V
• William Wordsworth : Michael: A Pastoral Poem
• William Wordsworth : Minstrels
• William Wordsworth : Most Sweet It Is
• William Wordsworth : Mother's Return, The

Previous 10 Poems

• William Wordsworth : Lines Written In Early Spring
• William Wordsworth : Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis
• William Wordsworth : Lines Left Upon A Seat In A Yew-tree
• William Wordsworth : Lines Composed A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey
• William Wordsworth : Last Of The Flock, The
• William Wordsworth : Laodamia
• William Wordsworth : Lament Of Mary Queen Of Scots, On The Eve Of A New Year
• William Wordsworth : Kitten And Falling Leaves, The
• William Wordsworth : It Was An April Morning: Fresh And Clear
• William Wordsworth : It Is Not To Be Thought Of