Classic Poem

WRITTEN IN THE FIRST PAGE OF WORDSWORTH'S POEMS .

In this high poet's song, you will not find
Fierce passion painted with a demon's force,
Vice, by wild incongruities refined,
And every virtue poisoned at its source.
Nor yet, marked by strange hatred of mankind,
The drunken anguish of a false remorse:
His soul is calm and lofty as a star,
Nor does he sing to give his spirit rest,
And charm to peace the hell within his breast.
But as a quiet lake reflects from far,
The forests, and the mountains, and the sky;
Thus, led by nature as a loving nurse,
His mind is made her mirror, and his verse
Is full of hope, and immortality.