Met, where the guardian wall is wound,So subtly are our eyes beguiledWe see not nor suspect a bound.No more than in some forest wild;The sight is free as air—or crostOnly by art in nature lost.“A Flower Garden”Wordsworth.
Met, where the guardian wall is wound,So subtly are our eyes beguiledWe see not nor suspect a bound.No more than in some forest wild;The sight is free as air—or crostOnly by art in nature lost.“A Flower Garden”Wordsworth.
Met, where the guardian wall is wound,So subtly are our eyes beguiledWe see not nor suspect a bound.No more than in some forest wild;The sight is free as air—or crostOnly by art in nature lost.
Met, where the guardian wall is wound,
So subtly are our eyes beguiled
We see not nor suspect a bound.
No more than in some forest wild;
The sight is free as air—or crost
Only by art in nature lost.
“A Flower Garden”Wordsworth.
“A Flower Garden”
Wordsworth.