Beneath the canopy of emerald leaves,
Where sunlight dances, shadows weave,
The whispering winds through branches sway,
Nature’s symphony, a breath away.

In meadows lush with flowers bright,
The buzzing bees, a pure delight,
Wordsworth’s heart, in nature’s thrall,
Finds peace and solace in her call.

The babbling brook, with crystal gleam,
Reflects his thoughts, a poet’s dream,
Each ripple, a verse, each splash, a rhyme,
Captures the essence of passing time.

As twilight falls on tranquil glades,
The stars appear, night’s serenades,
In nature’s arms, his spirit flies,
A timeless bond, beneath the skies.