I strode across
An open field;
The sun was out,
Heat was happy.
This way! This way!
The wren's throat shimmered,
Either to other,
The blossoms sang.
The stones sang,
The little ones did,
And flowers jumped
Like small goats.
A ragged fringe
Of daisies waved;
I wasn't alone
In the grove of apples.
Far in the wood
A nestling sighed;
The dew loosened
Its morning smells.
I came where the river
Ran over stones;
My ears knew
An early joy.
And all the waters
Of all the streams
Sang in my veins
That summer day.
From Lines Composed a few Miles Above Tintern Abbey
For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Not harsh, nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in mind of man
A motion and a spirit that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.
I just love the 5th stanza of the The Waking: 'Far in the wood/ A nestling sighed/ The dew loosened/ Its morning smells' - I know that early dew smell, there is no other like it :)
And dear William's 'a sense sublime/ Of something far more deeply interfused', I've experienced every day of my life - long before I ever knew the words to describe it. Indeed it is a counter-refrain to the 'still, sad music of humanity'...