Poem

To Thomas Clarkson

William Wordsworth
ON THE FINAL PASSING OF THE BILL FOR THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE MARCH 1807 CLARKSON! it was an obstinate hill to climb: How toilsome--nay, how dire--it was, by thee Is known; by none, perhaps, so feelingly: But thou, who, starting in thy fervent prime, Didst first lead forth that enterprise sublime, Hast heard the constant Voice its charge repeat, Which, out of thy young heart's oracular seat, First roused thee.--O true yoke-fellow of Time, Duty's intrepid liegeman, see, the palm Is won, and by all Nations shall be worn! The blood-stained Writing is for ever torn; And thou henceforth wilt have a good man's calm, A great man's happiness; thy zeal shall find Repose at length, firm friend of human kind!

One poem every morning.

6,130 poems from Shakespeare to Tupac. Read one a day. Save the ones that stay.
Free on the App Store.