Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/18

10 Like an army defeated

The Snow hath retreated,

And now doth fare ill

On the top of the bare hill;

The Plough-boy is whooping—anon—anon:

There's joy in the mountains;

There's life in the fountains;

Small clouds are sailing,

Blue sky prevailing;

The rain is over and gone!