The little hedgerow birds,
That peck along the roads, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression: every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak
A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought.--He is insensibly subdued
To settled quiet: he is one by whom
All effort seems forgotten; one to whom
Long patience hath such mild composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect that the young behold
With envy, what the Old Man hardly feels.
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More Poems by William Wordsworth
• A Character
• A Night Piece
• A Whirl Blast from Behind the Hill
• Andrew Jones
• Anecdote For Fathers
• Animal Tranquillity and Decay
• Calm is all Nature as a Resting Wheel
• Ellen Irwin
• Expostulation and Reply
• I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
• Influence of Natural Objects
• It was an April Morning: fresh and clear
• Lines Left upon a Seat in a Yew-tree
• Lines Written In Early Spring
• Lucy Gray
• Nutting
• Ode, Composed On A May Morning
• Remembrance of Collins
• Rural Architecture
• She Dwelt Among Untrodden Ways
• She Was a Phantom of Delight
• Passion Have I Known
• Surprised By Joy
• The Birth of Love
• The Childless Father
• The Forsaken
• The Green Linnet
• The Mother's Return
• The Pet Lamb: A Pastoral
• The Rainbow
• The Reverie of Poor Susan
• She Grew In Sun
• The Solitary Reaper
• The World Is To Much With Us; Late And Soon
• We Are Seven
• With Ships the Sea was Sprinkled Far and Nigh
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William Wordsworth Animal Tranquillity and Decay - Poem Lyrics - William Wordsworth - Animal Tranquillity and Decay
