Wordsworth Unread
by Hartley Coleridge (1796-1849)

He lived amidst the untrodden ways
      To Rydal Lake that lead;
A bard whom there were none to praise,
      And very few to read.

Behind a cloud his mystic sense,
      Deep hidden, who can spy?
Bright as the night when not a star
      Is shining in the sky.

Unread his works—his ‛Milk White Doe’
      With dust is dark and dim;
It’s still in Longman’s shop, and oh!
      The difference to him!

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