Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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IN THE WOODS OF RYDAL

          WILD Redbreast! hadst thou at Jemima's lip
          Pecked, as at mine, thus boldly, Love might say,
          A half-blown rose had tempted thee to sip
          Its glistening dews; but hallowed is the clay
          Which the Muse warms; and I, whose head is grey,
          Am not unworthy of thy fellowship;
          Nor could I let one thought--one notion--slip
          That might thy sylvan confidence betray.
          For are we not all His without whose care
          Vouchsafed no sparrow falleth to the ground?                10
          Who gives his Angels wings to speed through air,
          And rolls the planets through the blue profound;
          Then peck or perch, fond Flutterer! nor forbear
          To trust a Poet in still musings bound.
                                                              1827.


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