The Unremitting Voice of Nightly Streams

		<blockquote class="quote"> The unremitting voice of nightly streams<br> That wastes so oft, we think, its tuneful powers,<br> If neither soothing to the worm that gleams<br>
      Through dewy grass, nor small birds hushed in bowers,<br>
      Nor unto silent leaves and drowsy flowers,<br>
      That voice of unpretending harmony<br>
      (For who what is shall measure by what seems<br>
      To be, or not to be,<br>
      Or tax high Heaven with prodigality?)<br>
      Wants not a healing influence that can creep<br>
      Into the human breast, and mix with sleep<br>
      To regulate the motion of our dreams<br>
      For kindly issues as through every clime<br>
      Was felt near murmuring brooks in earliest time;<br>
      As at this day, the rudest swains who dwell<br>
      Where torrents roar, or hear the tinkling knell<br>
      Of water-breaks, with grateful heart could tell.<br><br><blockquote><p><em>- William Wordsworth, 1846</em></p></blockquote>

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