Select Pieces from the Poems of William WordsworthJ. Burns, 1843 - 233 стор. |
З цієї книги
Результати 1-5 із 26
Сторінка 20
... bird Did never build her nest . No beast , no bird hath here his home ; Bees , wafted on the breezy air , Pass high above those fragrant bells To other flowers , to other dells Their burdens do they bear : The Danish boy walks here ...
... bird Did never build her nest . No beast , no bird hath here his home ; Bees , wafted on the breezy air , Pass high above those fragrant bells To other flowers , to other dells Their burdens do they bear : The Danish boy walks here ...
Сторінка 23
... birds in their bowers , Unfettered as bees that in gardens abide ; We could do what we chose with the land , it was ours ; And for us the brook murmured that ran by its side . But now we are strangers , go early or late ; And often ...
... birds in their bowers , Unfettered as bees that in gardens abide ; We could do what we chose with the land , it was ours ; And for us the brook murmured that ran by its side . But now we are strangers , go early or late ; And often ...
Сторінка 25
... bird , Or but a wandering voice ? While I am lying on the grass , Thy twofold shout I hear ; That seems to fill the whole air's space , As loud far off as near . Though babbling only , to the vale , Of sunshine and of flowers , Thou ...
... bird , Or but a wandering voice ? While I am lying on the grass , Thy twofold shout I hear ; That seems to fill the whole air's space , As loud far off as near . Though babbling only , to the vale , Of sunshine and of flowers , Thou ...
Сторінка 26
... bird ! the earth we pace Again appears to be An unsubstantial , faery place , That is fit home for thee ! The Cottager to her Enfant . THE days are cold , the nights are long , The north - wind sings a doleful song ; Then hush again ...
... bird ! the earth we pace Again appears to be An unsubstantial , faery place , That is fit home for thee ! The Cottager to her Enfant . THE days are cold , the nights are long , The north - wind sings a doleful song ; Then hush again ...
Сторінка 40
... bird . " And thus continuing , she said : - : - " I had a son , who many a day Sailed on the seas , but he is dead ; In Denmark he was cast away : And I have travelled weary miles to see If aught which he had owned might still remain ...
... bird . " And thus continuing , she said : - : - " I had a son , who many a day Sailed on the seas , but he is dead ; In Denmark he was cast away : And I have travelled weary miles to see If aught which he had owned might still remain ...
Інші видання - Показати все
Загальні терміни та фрази
art thou bagpipe behold beneath bird blessed blest blind bower breath bright brother Brougham Castle cheerful child choice or chance churchyard clouds cottage dead dear deep delight door earth earth abide EGREMONT CASTLE Ennerdale eyes fair father fear fields flowers glad gone grave green greenwood tree grove hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour Isabel land Laodamia LEONARD light lived lofty look Luke mind morning mother mountain mourn mournfully murmur never night o'er pain passed peace pleasant pleasure poor PRIEST Rich groves Richard Bateman rills rocks round Ruth seemed SEVEN SISTERS shepherd side sight silent sing sleep solitude song sorrow soul sound spirit stone stood sweet thee There's things thou art thought TINTERN ABBEY trees Twas Twill vale voice wander waters weary ween wild wind woods Yarrow youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 4 - A SIMPLE Child, 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 5 - Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?' 'How many? Seven in all,' she said, And wondering looked at me. 'And where are they? I pray you tell.
Сторінка 43 - Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; 0 listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands : A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings...
Сторінка 168 - tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure: — But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
Сторінка 25 - 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...
Сторінка 164 - And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be, where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service : rather say With warmer love, oh ! with far deeper zeal Of holier love.
Сторінка 93 - THERE was a roaring in the wind all night ; The rain came heavily and fell in floods ; But now the sun is rising calm and bright ; The birds are singing in the distant woods...
Сторінка 147 - tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone.
Сторінка 159 - Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ,, And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration...
Сторінка 27 - ... Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, 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...