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1770–1850

IX

William Wordsworth

Pastor and Patriot!— at whose bidding rise These modest walls, amid a flock that need, For one who comes to watch them and to feed, A fixed Abode — keep down presageful sighs.

Threats, which the unthinking only can despise, Perplex the Church; but be thou firm,— be true To thy first hope, and this good work pursue, Poor as thou art. A welcome sacrifice

Dost Thou prepare, whose sign will be the smoke Of thy new hearth; and sooner shall its wreaths, Mounting while earth her morning incense breathes, From wandering fiends of air receive a yoke,

And straightway cease to aspire, than God disdain This humble tribute as ill-timed or vain.

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IX · William Wordsworth · Poetry Cove