Of course, Wordsworth was wont to go on at greater length, and with less economy, as Romantics tend to do. Thus, he -- like Shelley -- wrote a poem titled "Mutability." The poem was written later in his life, long after he had been excoriated by Shelley and others for being too conservative. (Some things never change.)
Thomas Moran, "The Chasm of the Colorado" (1873)
From low to high doth dissolution climb,
And sink from high to low, along a scale
Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail;
A musical but melancholy chime,
Which they can hear who meddle not with crime,
Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.
Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear
The longest date do melt like frosty rime,
That in the morning whitened hill and plain
And is no more; drop like the tower sublime
Of yesterday, which royally did wear
His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain
Some casual shout that broke the silent air,
Or the unimaginable touch of Time.
William Wordsworth, Ecclesiastical Sketches (1822).
"Truth fails not." Is that "Truth" or "truth"? Either way, I'm not so sure. Unless the truth he speaks of is "the unimaginable touch of Time."
"Cliffs of the Upper Colorado River, Wyoming Territory" (1882)
As in my previous post, a Japanese poem may provide a nice balance to that trademark Romantic combination of effusiveness and melancholy.
Drops of dew
strung on filaments
of spider web --
such are the trappings
that deck out this world
Saigyo (1118-1190) (translated by Burton Watson), in Saigyo: Poems of a Mountain Home (Columbia University Press 1991).
As I noted above, long on nouns and verbs. But as lovely and as straight-to-the-heart-of-things as poetry can get. "The unimaginable touch of Time," put differently.
Thomas Moran, "The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone" (1893)