 | The poetical works of William Wordsworth |  |
Among the humbler Worthies, at our feet
Lying insensible to human praise,
Love, or regret,—whose lineaments would next
Have been portrayed, I guess not; but it chanced
That, near the quiet church-yard where we sate,
A team of horses, with a ponderous freight
Pressing behind, adown a rugged slope,
Whose sharp descent confounded their array,
Came at that moment, ringing noisily.
Lying insensible to human praise,
Love, or regret,—whose lineaments would next
Have been portrayed, I guess not; but it chanced
That, near the quiet church-yard where we sate,
A team of horses, with a ponderous freight
Pressing behind, adown a rugged slope,
Whose sharp descent confounded their array,
Came at that moment, ringing noisily.
| The poetical works of William Wordsworth | |