Select Pieces from the Poems of William WordsworthJ. Burns, 1843 - 233 страници |
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Страница 13
... blessed day for thee ! then whither wouldst thou roam ? A faithful nurse thou hast ; thy dam that did thee yean Upon the mountain - tops no kinder could have been . Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can Fresh ...
... blessed day for thee ! then whither wouldst thou roam ? A faithful nurse thou hast ; thy dam that did thee yean Upon the mountain - tops no kinder could have been . Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can Fresh ...
Страница 14
... blessing of my later years Was with me when a boy : She gave me eyes , she gave me ears ; And humble cares , and delicate fears ; A heart , the fountain of sweet tears ; And love , and thought , and joy . * [ fT » The idle Shepherd Boys ...
... blessing of my later years Was with me when a boy : She gave me eyes , she gave me ears ; And humble cares , and delicate fears ; A heart , the fountain of sweet tears ; And love , and thought , and joy . * [ fT » The idle Shepherd Boys ...
Страница 24
... blessings , and wealth that we had , We slighted them all , and our birthright was lost . Oh , ill - judging sire of an innocent son , Who must now be a wanderer ! - but peace to that strain ! Think of evening's repose , when our labour ...
... blessings , and wealth that we had , We slighted them all , and our birthright was lost . Oh , ill - judging sire of an innocent son , Who must now be a wanderer ! - but peace to that strain ! Think of evening's repose , when our labour ...
Страница 26
... blessed 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 ...
... blessed 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 ...
Страница 33
... blessing which to you Our common friend and father sent . I kissed his cheek before he died ; And when his breath was fled , I raised , while kneeling by his side , His hand - it dropped like lead . Your hands , dear little ones , do ...
... blessing which to you Our common friend and father sent . I kissed his cheek before he died ; And when his breath was fled , I raised , while kneeling by his side , His hand - it dropped like lead . Your hands , dear little ones , do ...
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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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Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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...
Страница 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.
Страница 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...
Страница 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.
Страница 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...
Страница 147 - tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone.
Страница 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...
Страница 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...