William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

OFTEN, trifling with a privilege

Alike indulged to all, we paused, one now,

And now the other, to point out, perchance

To pluck, some flower or water-weed too fair

Either to be divided from the place

On which it grew, or to be left alone

To its own beauty. Many such there are,

Fair ferns and flowers, and chiefly that tall fern,

So stately, of the queen Osmunda named;

Plant lovelier, in its own retired abode

On Grasmere’s beach, than Naiad by the side

Of Grecian brook, or Lady of the Mere,

Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.