XXII. FROM THE SAME. TO THE SUPREME BEING. THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed Which of its native self can nothing feed: No man can find it: Father! thou must lead. By which such virtue may in me be bred The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind, XXIII. TO THE LADY LADY! the songs of Spring were in the grove I gave A labyrinth, Lady! which your feet shall rove. And all the mighty ravishment of Spring. XXIV. THE world is too much with us; late and soon, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. XXV. WRITTEN IN VERY EARLY YOUTH. CALM is all nature as a resting wheel. The Kine are couched upon the dewy grass; The officious touch that makes me droop again. XXVI. COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, Sept. 3, 1803. EARTH has not any thing to shew more fair: This City now doth like a garment wear Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill; |