 | William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1798 - 240 стор.
...a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee O sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer through the woods, How often... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1800 - 272 стор.
...their glad animal movements all gone by,) To me was all in all. — I cannot.paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion :...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite : a feeling and a love, That had no need of a... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1800 - 270 стор.
...vain belief,- yet, oh ! how oftr. In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,. Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee O sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer through the woods, How often... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 356 стор.
...their glad animal movements all gone by)' To me was all in all.—-I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling, and a love, That had no need of a... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 280 стор.
...their glad animal movements all gone by,) To me was all in all. — I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion :...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite : a feeling and a love, That had no need of a... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1802 - 282 стор.
...a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee O sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer through the woods, How often... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1815 - 416 стор.
...a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in .spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye !" Thou wanderer thro' the woodi, How often... | |
 | William Wordsworth, Dorothy Wordsworth - 1815 - 416 стор.
...a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light; when the fretful .stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often... | |
 | Tobias Smollett - 1816 - 674 стор.
...original, that the redder may judge if we are correct, especially as the poem is not very well known. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion :...rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite : a feeling and a love That had no need of a remoter... | |
 | 1838 - 884 стор.
...And their glad varied moments all gone by) To me was all in all. I cannot paint What then I was. Tho sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a lojjre That had no need of a... | |
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In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart— How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,... 
