Great poetry of William Wordsworth
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A Night thought by William Wordsworth

Lo! where the Moon along the sky

Sails with her happy destiny;

Oft is she hid from mortal eye

Or dimly seen,

But when the clouds asunder fly

How bright her mien!

Far different we, a froward race,

Thousands though rich in Fortune’s grace

With cherished sullenness of pace

Their way pursue,

Ingrates who wear a smileless face

The whole year through.

If kindred humours e’er would make

My spirit droop for drooping’s sake,

From Fancy following in thy wake,

Bright ship of heaven!

A counter impulse let me take

And be forgiven.

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