At Wordsworth’s Grave

At Wordsworth's Gravernby Marion MontgomeryrnThis church will prosper beyond God-worship.rnHere lies the man who named our stones; by himrnOur flowers sway sweeter in a foreign eye,rnThose daffodils now reckoned Dora's Field,rnOr dancing above Patterdale by staid UllswaterrnIn the endless caged words of staid contentions . . .