Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/308

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newly found are sweet

When they lie about our feet:

February last my heart

First at sight of thee was glad;

All unheard of as thou art,

Thou must needs, I think, have had,

Celandine! and long ago,

Praise of which I nothing know.

I have not a doubt but he,

Whosoe'er the man might be,

Who the first with pointed rays,

(Workman worthy to be sainted)

Set the Sign-board in a blaze,

When the risen sun he painted,

Took the fancy from a glance

At thy glittering countenance.