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Poems from the Poetical Works of William Wordsworth
Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016
beauty beneath blessed blind breath bright brother brought cheerful Child common cottage dead dear deep delight door doth dwell earth eyes face faithful Father fear feel fields flowers Friend give gone grave green half hand happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven hills hope hour human kind land leave LEONARD light lived look memory mind morning mountain Nature never night o'er once passed past peace pleasure poor PRIEST rest returned rocks round season seemed seen shade side silent sing song soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit spring steps stone stood stream summer sweet tears thee things thou thought trees turned vale voice waters wild wind woods Yarrow young youth
Сторінка 170 - Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings?— Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of today? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Сторінка 21 - That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage girl : She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be ? " " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Сторінка 110 - THREE years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown ; This Child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse : and with me The Girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain.
Сторінка 228 - There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them ; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad hearts ! without reproach or blot ; Who do thy work, and know it not : Oh ! if, through confidence misplaced, They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power ! around them cast.
Сторінка 278 - Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
Сторінка 134 - All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, ' And mountains ; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half create *, And what perceive...
Сторінка 274 - The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Сторінка 279 - ... those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence : truths that wake To perish never ; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man, nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence, in a season of calm weather.
Сторінка 277 - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own ; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years...