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William Wordsworth: Quotes

It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before,
The red-breast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.
One moment now may give us more
Than fifty years of reason;
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.

Lyrical Ballads (1798) — Lines Written at a small distance from my House, and sent by my little Boy to the Person to whom they are addressed