Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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COMPOSED IN THE VALLEY NEAR DOVER, ON THE DAY OF LANDING

          HERE, on our native soil, we breathe once more.
          The cock that crows, the smoke that curls, that sound
          Of bells; those boys who in yon meadow-ground
          In white-sleeved shirts are playing; and the roar
          Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore;--
          All, all are English. Oft have I looked round
          With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found
          Myself so satisfied in heart before.
          Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass,
          Thought for another moment. Thou art free,                  10
          My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride
          For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass
          Of England once again, and hear and see,
          With such a dear Companion at my side.


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