In the gentle embrace of morning’s light,
Nature unfolds her tapestry of green.
Wordsworth’s heart, a vessel of delight,
Finds solace where the tranquil scenes convene.

Among the whispers of the rustling leaves,
He hears the echo of a timeless song.
The brook’s soft murmur, as it gently weaves,
Guides him to where the silent dreams belong.

The daffodils, in golden splendor bright,
Dance in the breeze with grace and endless cheer.
Their beauty, a reminder of pure sight,
Awakens joy and chases away fear.

In every hue, in every fleeting breeze,
Nature speaks in tones both soft and profound.
Wordsworth finds his peace among the trees,
Where the soul’s true harmony is found.