English poem
Why Should The Enthusiast, Journeying Through This Isle
Why should the Enthusiast, journeying through this Isle, Repine as if his hour were come too late? Not unprotected in her mouldering state, Antiquity salutes him with a smile, 'Mid fruitful fields that ring with jocund toil, And pleasure-grounds where Taste, refined Co-mate Of Truth and Beauty, strives to imitate, Far as she may, primeval Nature's style. Fair Land! by Time's parental love made free, By Social Order's watchful arms embraced; With unexampled union meet in thee, For eye and mind, the present and the past; With golden prospect for futurity, If that be reverenced which ought to last.
More by William Wordsworth
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- Yes, It Was The Mountain Echo
- 'Tis Said, That Some Have Died For Love