One-hundred fifty-seven years gone by
Since human ears were graced with your fair voice.
Yet Wordsworth, all our art must still comply
With your fair words--we read them and rejoice!
Your rhythms flowed in song across the page,
Each syllable expressed your human heart.
But more than man--a teacher, friend and sage,
You shared your love so that you might impart
In all the wonder that it is to be,
In all the glory of their inward soul,
Long dead, but still your might lives on in me
And all my verses your proud verse extol.
No more is my truth locked in ivory tower,
Your words bestow me virtue, freedom, power.
Bolivar and San Martin: Guayaquil, Ecuador
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