The cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
      The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
      There are forty feeding like one!

Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
      The plowboy 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!

Added: on October 8th, 2005 at 11:04 AM | Viewed: 4832 times | Comments (2)

Poet: William Wordsworth
Poem: Written In March
Volume: Poems, in Two Volumes
Year: Published/Written in 1807
Poem of the Day on:
May 26 2003

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