Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/346

286 And I will have my careless season

Spite of melancholy reason,

Will walk through life in such a way

That, when time brings on decay,

Now and then I may possess

Hours of perfect gladsomeness.

—Pleased by any random toy;

By a Kitten's busy joy,

Or an Infant's laughing eye

Sharing in the ecstasy;

I would fare like that or this,

Find my wisdom in my bliss;

Keep the sprightly soul awake,

And have faculties to take,

Even from things by sorrow wrought,

Matter for a jocund thought;

Spite of care, and spite of grief,

To gambol with Life's falling Leaf.