English poem
Methinks 'Twere No Unprecedented Feat
Methinks 'twere no unprecedented feat Should some benignant Minister of air Lift, and encircle with a cloudy chair, The One for whom my heart shall ever beat With tenderest love;--or, if a safer seat Atween his downy wings be furnished, there Would lodge her, and the cherished burden bear O'er hill and valley to this dim retreat! Rough ways my steps have trod; too rough and long For her companionship; here dwells soft ease: With sweets that she partakes not some distaste Mingles, and lurking consciousness of wrong; Languish the flowers; the waters seem to waste Their vocal charm; their sparklings cease to please.
More by William Wordsworth
- It Is No Spirit Who From Heaven Hath Flown
- It Is Not To Be Thought Of That The Flood
- It Was An April Morning: Fresh And Clear
- Look Now On That Adventurer Who Hath Paid
- Methought I Saw The Footsteps Of A Throne
- "My Dear Miss Wordsworth,--
- My Heart Leaps Up When I Behold
- No Record Tells Of Lance Opposed To Lance