(Segments of poetry from William Wordsworth)
[from Upon Westminster Bridge]
and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
[from The Prelude]
and with what motion moved the clouds!
[from The Prelude]
while the stars, Eastward, 
were sparkling clear, and in the west
The orange sky of evening died away. 
[from Intimations of Immortality From Recollections of Early Childhood]
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;