A bird perched upon a church steeple casts a severe glance over the doings of men.

Walking with his ten-year-old daughter on the beach at Calais, Wordsworth considers the energy of God moving in all things.

William Wordsworth watches a playful kitten, and makes himself a promise.

Poet Percy Shelley calls on November’s sister months to watch by the graveside of the dead Year.

Poet Percy Bysshe Shelley says that the pinnacle of political achievement is the government not of others, but of ourselves.

Poet John Keats speaks of the beauties of Autumn, her colours, her sounds and her rich harvest.