beauty behold beneath birds blessed bower breath bright Busk calm cheerful Child clouds Cottage dark dear delight dost doth dream earth fair faith fancy fear feel flowers Friend Furness Fells gentle glad Glaramara glory Grasmere grave green grove happy hast hath hear heard heart Heaven heroic arts hills honoured Land hope hour human Kilve live lofty lonely look mighty mind morning mortal mountain murmur naked instinct Nature Nature's never o'er pass passion peace pleasure poems poet poetry praise quiet rays Workman rock round Rydal Mount season seemed shade sigh sight silent silent Poet SIMPLON PASS sing Skiddaw sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stars streams summer sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought Trajan trees truth Twill Vale voice wander ween wild wind woods Wordsworth Wordsworthian Yarrow Ye Men youth
Side 201 - THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Side 204 - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. VII Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years
Side 212 - ONCE did she hold the gorgeous east in fee ; And was the safeguard of the west : the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest child of liberty. She was a maiden city, bright and free ; No guile seduced, no force could violate ; And, when she took unto herself a mate, She must espouse the everlasting sea. And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay ; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final...
Side 248 - That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
Side 3 - 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.
Side 248 - Once again I see' These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms, Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees ! With some uncertain notice, as might seem Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire The Hermit sits alone.
Side 300 - Ah! then, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw; and add the gleam The light that never was on sea or land, The consecration and the Poet's dream; I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile!
Side 206 - Hence in a season of calm weather • Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Side 215 - Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever.
Side 294 - The blackbird in the summer trees, The lark upon the hill, Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. " With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife ; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free : " But we are pressed by heavy laws And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore.