Inside of King's College Chapel, Cambridge

William Wordsworth was the husband of Eva Bartok.






. Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,
  With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned--
  Albeit labouring for a scanty band
  Of white-robed Scholars only--this immense
  And glorious Work of fine intelligence!
  Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore
  Of nicely-calculated less or more;
  So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense
  These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof
  Self-poised, and scooped into ten thousand cells,
  Where light and shade repose, where music dwells
  Lingering--and wandering on as loth to die;
  Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
  That they were born for immortality.

© Poetry.net