The Poetry Corner

The Unremitting Voice Of Nightly Streams

By William Wordsworth

The unremitting voice of nightly streams That wastes so oft, we think, its tuneful powers, If neither soothing to the worm that gleams Through dewy grass, nor small birds hushed in bowers, Nor unto silent leaves and drowsy flowers, That voice of unpretending harmony (For who what is shall measure by what seems To be, or not to be, Or tax high Heaven with prodigality?) Wants not a healing influence that can creep Into the human breast, and mix with sleep To regulate the motion of our dreams For kindly issues as through every clime Was felt near murmuring brooks in earliest time; As at this day, the rudest swains who dwell Where torrents roar, or hear the tinkling knell Of water-breaks, with grateful heart could tell.