Poor Man's Wordsworth
I am a child
Of hands apart.
I sway to scattered muses
Tethered to reluctant arms.
I scamper down rubato paths
Lined with fine green mist… 50 more words
Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequester’d vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 6 more words