Select Pieces from the Poems of William WordsworthJ. Burns, 1843 - 233 стор. |
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... SEVEN SISTERS THE WIND REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS . A SLUMBER DID MY SPIRIT SEAL DION THE OLD CUMBERLAND BEGGAR SONG FOR THE SPINNING - WHEEL LAODAMIA 181 201 204 206 207 217 218 218 232 233 Lucy Gray OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray ;
... SEVEN SISTERS THE WIND REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS . A SLUMBER DID MY SPIRIT SEAL DION THE OLD CUMBERLAND BEGGAR SONG FOR THE SPINNING - WHEEL LAODAMIA 181 201 204 206 207 217 218 218 232 233 Lucy Gray OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray ;
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William [poetical works Wordsworth (selections]). Lucy Gray OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray ; And when I cross'd the wild , I chanced to see , at break of day , The solitary child . No mate , no comrade Lucy knew ; She dwelt on a wide moor ...
William [poetical works Wordsworth (selections]). Lucy Gray OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray ; And when I cross'd the wild , I chanced to see , at break of day , The solitary child . No mate , no comrade Lucy knew ; She dwelt on a wide moor ...
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... heard the northern gleams ; The stars were mingled with my dreams ; In rustling conflict through the skies , I heard , I saw the flashes drive , And yet they are upon my eyes , And yet I am alive : Before I see another day , Oh let my ...
... heard the northern gleams ; The stars were mingled with my dreams ; In rustling conflict through the skies , I heard , I saw the flashes drive , And yet they are upon my eyes , And yet I am alive : Before I see another day , Oh let my ...
Сторінка 11
... heard a voice ; it said , " Drink , pretty creature , drink ! " And , looking o'er the hedge , before me I espied A snow - white mountain lamb with a maiden at its side . Nor sheep nor kine were near , the lamb was all alone , And by a ...
... heard a voice ; it said , " Drink , pretty creature , drink ! " And , looking o'er the hedge , before me I espied A snow - white mountain lamb with a maiden at its side . Nor sheep nor kine were near , the lamb was all alone , And by a ...
Сторінка 19
... stricken tree ; A corner - stone by lightning cut , The last stone of a lonely hut ; And in this dell you see , A thing no storm can e'er destroy , The shadow of a Danish boy . In clouds above the lark is heard , But drops. 19.
... stricken tree ; A corner - stone by lightning cut , The last stone of a lonely hut ; And in this dell you see , A thing no storm can e'er destroy , The shadow of a Danish boy . In clouds above the lark is heard , But drops. 19.
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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
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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...