Here you will find the Poem A Sketch of poet William Wordsworth
The little hedgerow birds, That peck along the road, regard him not. He travels on, and in his face, his step, His gait, is one expression; every limb, His look and bending figure, all bespeak A man who does not move with pain, but moves With thought. -He is insensibly subdued To settled quiet: he is one by whom All effort seems forgotten; one to whom Long patience hath such mild composure given That patience now doth seem a thing of which He hath no need. He is by nature led To peace so perfect, that the young behold With envy what the Old Man hardly feels.
