Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you’ll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?
The sun above the mountain’s head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There’s more of wisdom in it.
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.
She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless—
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—
We murder to dissect.
Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.
|About the poet|
|By the same poet|
|Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey|
|Upon Westminster Bridge|
|Evening on Calais Beach|
|On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic, 1802|
|England, 1802 (i)|
|England, 1802 (ii)|
|England, 1802 (iii)|
|England, 1802 (iv)|
|England, 1802 (v)|
|Ode to Duty|
|The Sonnet (i)|
|The Sonnet (ii)|
|Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood|
|Valedictory Sonnet to the River Duddon|
|I Travelled among Unknown Men|
|My Heart Leaps Up|
|William Wordsworth at amazon.co.uk|