Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/129

69 How fair it's lawns and sheltering woods appear!

How sweet it's streamlet murmurs in mine ear!)

Where we, my friend, to happy days shall rise,

'Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs

(For sighs will ever trouble human breath)

Creep hushed into the tranquil breast of Death.