Thy talks on God, and glories of His fields <br />Are woven into my unworthy past. <br />The fragments of thy thoughts my memory yields <br />Grow dim at times, and yet they seem to last. <br />This little book of verses, covered red, <br />A gift to me, a gift of quiet rest, <br />Is filled with soothing words that thou hast said; <br />Some chosen thoughts, the wisest and the best;- <br />Sweet songs and gleanings from that inward eye; <br />The noise of bees the wind in daffodils; <br />The splendour of the sea and of the sky; <br />And Nature standing on the silent hills. <br />They words, thy thoughts, for me can never cease <br />To have that flavour of eternal peace.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-book-of-wordsworth/
