The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Том 2E. Moxon, 1840 |
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... voices for a favourite strain- Tu - whit - Tu - whoo ! the unsuspecting fowl Forebodes mishap or seems but to complain ; Fancy , intent to harass and annoy , Can thus pervert the evidence of joy . Through border wilds where naked ...
... voices for a favourite strain- Tu - whit - Tu - whoo ! the unsuspecting fowl Forebodes mishap or seems but to complain ; Fancy , intent to harass and annoy , Can thus pervert the evidence of joy . Through border wilds where naked ...
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... voice of Philomel ; And that fleet messenger of summer days , The swallow , twittered subject to like spell ; But ne'er could Fancy bend the buoyant lark To melancholy service - hark ! O hark ! The daisy sleeps upon the dewy lawn , Not ...
... voice of Philomel ; And that fleet messenger of summer days , The swallow , twittered subject to like spell ; But ne'er could Fancy bend the buoyant lark To melancholy service - hark ! O hark ! The daisy sleeps upon the dewy lawn , Not ...
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... voice : How would it please old Ocean to partake , With sailors longing for a breeze in vain , The harmony thy notes most gladly make Where earth resembles most his own domain ! Urania's self might welcome with pleased ear These matins ...
... voice : How would it please old Ocean to partake , With sailors longing for a breeze in vain , The harmony thy notes most gladly make Where earth resembles most his own domain ! Urania's self might welcome with pleased ear These matins ...
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... Voice , " Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self Between me and my choice ! " A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows Thus threatened a poor Briar - rose , That , all bespattered with his foam , And dancing high and dancing low , Was living ...
... Voice , " Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self Between me and my choice ! " A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows Thus threatened a poor Briar - rose , That , all bespattered with his foam , And dancing high and dancing low , Was living ...
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... voice or none . But now proud thoughts are in your breast- What grief is mine you see , Ah ! would you think , even yet how blest Together we might be ! Though of both leaf and flower bereft , Some ornaments to me are left- Rich store ...
... voice or none . But now proud thoughts are in your breast- What grief is mine you see , Ah ! would you think , even yet how blest Together we might be ! Though of both leaf and flower bereft , Some ornaments to me are left- Rich store ...
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beauty behold beneath bird BLACK COMB blest bower breast breath breeze bright BROUGHAM CASTLE calm cheer clouds Countess of Pembroke dancing dear delight doth dwell earth EGREMONT CASTLE fair faith fancy fear feelings flowers gentle gleam Goody Blake Grasmere green grove happy Harry Gill hath head heard heart heaven Helvellyn hill hour human language Laodamia living lofty lonely look Lord Clifford Martha Ray metre metrical mind moon morning mountains murmur nature never night o'er objects oh misery pain passion Peter Bell pleasure Poems Poet poetic diction Poetry poor prose Reader rill river Swale rock round shade sight silent sing sleep song soul sound spirit spot Stanza stars stir stream sweet thee thine things Thorn thou art thoughts trees Twas vale verse voice wandering wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings withered woods words
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Сторінка 166 - For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance — If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice...
Сторінка 164 - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this *Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense.
Сторінка 82 - Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways, In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen.
Сторінка 88 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Сторінка 314 - And in my breast the imperfect joys expire ; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men ; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear ; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, And weep the more because I weep in vain.
Сторінка 166 - Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy...
Сторінка 94 - They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced ; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee : A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed — and gazed — but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought : For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude ; And then my heart with...
Сторінка 307 - ... because in that condition of life our elementary feelings co-exist in a state of greater simplicity, and consequently may be more accurately contemplated, and more forcibly communicated; because the manners of rural life germinate from those elementary feelings, and from the necessary character of rural occupations, are more easily comprehended, and are more durable; and lastly, because in that condition the passions of men are incorporated with the beautiful and permanent forms of nature.
Сторінка 162 - The landscape with the quiet of the sky. The day is come when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore, and view These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves Mid groves and copses. Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms, Green to the very door...
Сторінка 85 - But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove ; Huge trunks ! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved ; Nor uninformed with phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane...