Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/121

113 Written at a small Distance from my House, and sent by my little Boy to the Person to whom they are addressed.

the first mild day of March:

Each minute sweeter than before,

The Red-breast sings from the tall Larch

That stands beside our door.

There is a blessing in the air,

Which seems a sense of joy to yield

To the bare trees, and mountains bare,

And grass in the green field.

My Sister! ('tis a wish of mine)

Now that our morning meal is done,

Make haste, your morning task resign;

Come forth and feel the sun.