The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Том 2Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green, 1827 |
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Сторінка 20
... stone , For those seven lovely Campbells . Seven little Islands , green and bare , Have risen from out the deep : The Fishers say , those Sisters fair By Faeries are all buried there , And there together sleep . Sing , mournfully , oh ...
... stone , For those seven lovely Campbells . Seven little Islands , green and bare , Have risen from out the deep : The Fishers say , those Sisters fair By Faeries are all buried there , And there together sleep . Sing , mournfully , oh ...
Сторінка 21
... stone by lightning cut , The last stone of a cottage hut ; And in this dell you see A thing no storm can e'er destroy , The Shadow of a Danish Boy . ( 1 ) In clouds above , the Lark is heard , But 21 ' A Fragment.
... stone by lightning cut , The last stone of a cottage hut ; And in this dell you see A thing no storm can e'er destroy , The Shadow of a Danish Boy . ( 1 ) In clouds above , the Lark is heard , But 21 ' A Fragment.
Сторінка 23
... stone . There sits he : in his face you spy No trace of a ferocious air , Nor ever was a cloudless sky So steady or so fair . The lovely Danish Boy is blest And happy in his flowery cove : From bloody deeds his thoughts are far ; And ...
... stone . There sits he : in his face you spy No trace of a ferocious air , Nor ever was a cloudless sky So steady or so fair . The lovely Danish Boy is blest And happy in his flowery cove : From bloody deeds his thoughts are far ; And ...
Сторінка 54
... temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of mossy stone , United worship ; or in mute repose To lie , and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves . VII . VIEW FROM THE TOP OF BLACK COMB . 54 YEW - TREES .
... temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of mossy stone , United worship ; or in mute repose To lie , and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves . VII . VIEW FROM THE TOP OF BLACK COMB . 54 YEW - TREES .
Сторінка 58
... stones That , fleeced with moss , beneath the shady trees , Lay round me , scattered like a flock of sheep , I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound , In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease ; and , of its joy ...
... stones That , fleeced with moss , beneath the shady trees , Lay round me , scattered like a flock of sheep , I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound , In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease ; and , of its joy ...
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admiration appear Babe beauty behold beneath Bird BLACK COMB blood bower breath bright BROUGHAM CASTLE calm cheer Child clouds Countess of Pembroke dark dear deep delight doth earth fair faith Fancy fear feel flowers genius gentle gleam glow-worm Goody Blake GRASMERE green grove happy Harry Gill hath head heard heart Heaven Helvellyn hill hour human Laodamia live lofty look Lord Clifford Martha Ray mind moon mortal mountain murmur nature never night o'er oh misery Ossian pain Paradise Lost pensive Peter Bell pleasure Poem Poet poetry poor praise Rill river rocks round seems shade Shakspeare sight silent sing song Sonnet soul sound spirit stars stood stream Swale sweet thee thine thing Thorn thou thoughts Threlkeld trees Twas vale voice wandering ween wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wing woods Youth
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Сторінка 60 - 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 way-lay.
Сторінка 286 - IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration...
Сторінка 64 - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. 'The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Сторінка 356 - And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places : thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations ; and thou shalt be called The repairer of the breach, The restorer of paths to dwell in.
Сторінка 289 - Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
Сторінка 182 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall 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, 80 That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Сторінка 104 - The wind, the tempest roaring high, The tumult of a tropic sky Might well be dangerous food For him, a youth to whom was given So much of earth — so much of heaven, And such impetuous blood.
Сторінка 47 - 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 268 - Sleepless! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear...
Сторінка 305 - SCORN not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakspeare unlocked his heart; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp. It...