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William Wordsworth - Most Sweet it is
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.  Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes 
    To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
    While a fair region round the traveller lies
    Which he forbears again to look upon;
    Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
    The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
    Of meditation, slipping in between
    The beauty coming and the beauty gone.
    If Thought and Love desert us, from that day
   Let us break off all commerce with the Muse:
   With Thought and Love companions of our way,
   Whate`er the senses take or may refuse,
   The Mind`s internal heaven shall shed her dews
   Of inspiration on the humblest lay.
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