Mr and Mrs Andrews Gainsborough

Ancient of DaysWilliam Blake

Extract 1 – Listen!

• http://youtu.be/Sq2M3v4G1dk

Extract 2 - Listen

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Sonnet on the Death of Mr Richard West

In vain to me the smiling mornings shine,And redd'ning Phoebus lifts his golden fire:The birds in vain their amorous descant join;Or cheerful fields resume their green attire:These ears, alas! for other notes repine,A different object do these eyes require:My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine;And in my breast the imperfect joys expire.Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer,And new-born pleasure brings to happier men:The fields to all their wonted tribute bear;To warm their little loves the birds complain:I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear,And weep the more, because I weep in vain.

Thomas Grey

We Are Seven

—A simple child,That lightly draws its breath,And feels its life in every limb,What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage girl:She was eight years old, she said;Her hair was thick with many a curlThat clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,And she was wildly clad:Her eyes were fair, and very fair;—Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little maid,How many may you be?""How many? Seven in all," she said,And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."She answered, "Seven are we;And two of us at Conway dwell,And two are gone to sea.

"Two of us in the churchyard lie,My sister and my brother;And, in the churchyard cottage, IDwell near them with my mother."

William Wordsworth