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ReadingWillow structured literacy program for Australian students

The Trosachs

William Wordsworth·1770–1850
Lines:14
THERE'S not a nook within this solemn Pass,But were an apt confessional for OneTaught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,That Life is but a tale of morning grassWithered at eve. From scenes of art which chaseThat thought away, turn, and with watchful eyesFeed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glassUntouched, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest,If from a golden perch of aspen spray(October's workmanship to rival May)The pensive warbler of the ruddy breastThat moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay,Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest!