William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

UP with me! up with me into the clouds!

For thy song, Lark, is strong;

Up with me, up with me into the clouds!

Singing, singing,

With clouds and sky about thee ringing,

Lift me, guide me till I find

That spot which seems so to thy mind!

I have walked through wildernesses dreary,

And to-day my heart is weary;

Had I now the wings of a Faery,

Up to thee would I fly.

There’s madness about thee, and joy divine

In that song of thine;

Lift me, guide me high and high

To thy banqueting-place in the sky.

Joyous as morning,

Thou art laughing and scorning;

Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest,

And, though little troubled with sloth,

Drunken Lark! thou would’st be loth

To be such a traveller as I.

Happy, happy Liver,

With a soul as strong as a mountain River

Pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver,

Joy and jollity be with us both!

Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven,

Through prickly moors or dusty ways must wind,

But hearing thee, or others of thy kind,

As full of gladness and as free of heaven,

I, with my fate contented, will plod on,

And hope for higher raptures, when Life’s day is done.