The Complete Poetical Works of William WordsworthMacmillan, 1890 - 928 sider |
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Alfoxden Ambleside aught beauty behold beneath bird blest bowers breast breath bright calm cheer child clouds Coleorton cottage creature Cuckoo dark dear deep delight doth earth fair faith fancy fear feel flowers Friend gentle George Beaumont grace Grasmere grave green grove hand happy hath Hawkshead hear heard heart heaven Helvellyn hills hope hour human Idon labour light living lonely look Loughrigg Fell MARMADUKE mind morning mountain Muse Nature Nature's never night o'er pain passed peace Peter Bell pleasure poem poor rapture rill rock round Rydal Rydal Mount Rylstone shade side sight silent sleep smooth soft song Sonnet sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee things thou thought trees truth Twas vale verse voice walk wandering wild wind woods words Wordsworth Yarrow youth
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Side 95 - Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened: — that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on, — Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power...
Side 96 - 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, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Side 194 - 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 to-day ? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again...
Side 96 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, 'Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man...
Side 361 - 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!
Side 119 - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!
Side 119 - 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.
Side 77 - You say that two at Conway dwell, and two are gone to sea, yet ye are seven! I pray you tell, sweet Maid, how this may be." Then did the little Maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; two of us in the church-yard lie, beneath the church-yard tree.
Side 650 - Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still...
Side 362 - And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills and Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves ! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet ; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another...