<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540046" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Matthew</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">IF Nature, for a favourite child,<br>In thee hath tempered so her clay,<br>That every hour thy heart runs wild,<br>Yet never once doth go astray,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Read o'er these lines; and then review<br>This tablet, that thus humbly rears<br>In such diversity of hue<br>Its history of two hundred years.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">--When through this little wreck of fame,<br>Cipher and syllable! thine eye <br>Has travelled down to Matthew's name,<br>Pause with no common sympathy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, if a sleeping tear should wake,<br>Then be it neither checked nor stayed:<br>For Matthew a request I make<br>Which for himself he had not made.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor Matthew, all his frolics o'er,<br>Is silent as a standing pool;<br>Far from the chimney's merry roar,<br>And murmur of the village school. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sighs which Matthew heaved were sighs<br>Of one tired out with fun and madness;<br>The tears which came to Matthew's eyes<br>Were tears of light, the dew of gladness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, sometimes, when the secret cup<br>Of still and serious thought went round,<br>It seemed as if he drank it up--<br>He felt with spirit so profound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">--Thou soul of God's best earthly mould!<br>Thou happy Soul! and can it be <br>That these two words of glittering gold<br>Are all that must remain of thee?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wordsworth">William Wordsworth</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540046" data-title="Matthew de William Wordsworth" data-description="IF Nature, for a favourite child, In thee hath tempered so her clay, That every hour thy heart runs wild, Yet never once doth go astray, Read o'er these lines; and then review This tablet, that thus humbly rears In such diversity of hue Its histo..."></div> </div> </div>

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