Admonition to a Traveller
William Wordsworth, 1807

Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye!
     --The lovely cottage in the guardian nook
     Hath stirr'd thee deeply; with its own dear brook,
     Its own small pasture, almost its own sky!

     But covet not the abode--O do not sigh
     As many do, repining while they look;
     Intruders who would tear from Nature's book
     This precious leaf with harsh impiety:

     --Think what the home would be if it were thine,
     Even thine, though few thy wants!--Roof, window, door,
     The very flowers are sacred to the Poor,

     The roses to the porch which they entwine:
     Yea, all that now enchants thee, from the day
     On which it should be touch'd would melt away!