Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/57

5 Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife,

Come, here the woodland linnet,

How sweet his music; on my life

There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!

And he is no mean preacher;

Come forth into the light of things,

Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,

Our minds and hearts to bless—

Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,

Truth breathed by chearfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man;

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.