Poem for the day

from Lines written a few miles above Tintern Abbey

For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that distrubs me with the joy

Of evelvated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something for more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of a man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought:
And rolls through all things.

William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)

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