Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/153



Tourists, Heaven preserve us! needs must live

A profitable life: some glance along,

Rapid and gay, as if the earth were air,

And they were butterflies to wheel about

Long as the summer lasted: some, as wise,

Upon the forehead of a jutting crag

Sit perched, with book and pencil on their knee,

And look and scribble, scribble on and look,

Until a man might travel twelve stout miles,

Or reap an acre of his neighbour's corn.