• Author: Wordsworth
• Editor: B-7413
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 6
• Page Number:
• Date: 4 4 1917
• Tags:
• poetry

MORNING There was a roaring in the wind all night; . . . But now the sun is rising calm and bright; The birds are singing in the distant woods; Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods; The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters; And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters. All things that love the sun are out of doors; The sky rejoices in the morning's birth; The grass is bright with rain drops;—on the moors ; The hare is running races in her mirth; And with her feet she from the plashy earth Raises a mist; that, glittering in the sun, Runs with her all the way, wherever he ‘doth run. . . . —Wordsworth.