A conversation-

William Wordsworth

We talk’d with open heart, and tongue

Affectionate and true

A pair of friends, though I was young

And he sixty-two.

We lay beneath a spearing oak,

Beside a mossy seat

And from the turf a fountain broke

And gurgled at our feet

‘Now, dear!” said I ‘let us match

This water’s pleasant tune

With some old border-song, or catch

That suits a summer’s noon

‘Or of the church-clock and the chimes

Sing here beneath the shade

That half-mad thing of witty rhymes

Which you last April made!’

‘My eyes are dum with childish tears,

My heart is idly stirred,

For the same sound is in my ears

Which in those days I heard

‘My days, my friend, are almost gone,

My life has been approved,

And many love me, but by none

Am I enough beloved?’