I marvel how Nature could ever find space For so many strange contrasts in one human face: Theres thought and no thought, and theres paleness and bloom And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom. Theres weakness, and strength both redundant and vain; Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain Could pierce through a temper thats soft to disease, Would be rational peace--a philosophers ease. Theres indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds, And attention full ten times as much as there needs; Pride where theres no envy, theres so much of joy; And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy. Theres freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare Of shame scarcely seeming to know that shes there, Theres virtue, the title it surely may claim, Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name. This picture from nature may seem to depart, Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart; And I for five centuries right gladly would be Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he. William Wordsworth
Posted on: Tue, 08 Jul 2014 15:57:19 +0000
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