William Wordsworth

From The Dark Chambers Of Dejection Freed

FROM the dark chambers of dejection freed, Spurning the unprofitable yoke of care, Rise, GILLIES, rise; the gales of youth shall bear Thy genius forward like a winged steed. Though bold Bellerophon (so Jove decreed In wrath) fell headlong from the fields of air, Yet a rich guerdon waits on minds that dare, If aught be in them of immortal seed, And reason govern that audacious flight Which heavenward they direct.--Then droop not thou, Erroneously renewing a sad vow In the low dell 'mid Roslin's faded grove: A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight.

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