The Poems of William WordsworthE. Moxon, 1849 - 619 страници |
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Страница xiii
... cheer Ah ! where is Palafox ? Nor tongue nor pen In due observance of an ancient rite . · Feelings of a Noble Biscayan at one of those Funerals The Oak of Guernica • Indignation of a high - minded Spaniard PAGE 244 245 245 245 245 245 ...
... cheer Ah ! where is Palafox ? Nor tongue nor pen In due observance of an ancient rite . · Feelings of a Noble Biscayan at one of those Funerals The Oak of Guernica • Indignation of a high - minded Spaniard PAGE 244 245 245 245 245 245 ...
Страница 3
... Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone , By lichens grey , and scanty moss , o'ergrown ; Where scarce the foxglove peeps , or thistle's beard ; And restless stone - chat , all day long , is heard . How pleasant , as the sun ...
... Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone , By lichens grey , and scanty moss , o'ergrown ; Where scarce the foxglove peeps , or thistle's beard ; And restless stone - chat , all day long , is heard . How pleasant , as the sun ...
Страница 5
... cheer The weary hills , impervious , blackening near ; Yet does she still , undaunted , throw the while On darling spots remote her tempting smile . Even now she decks for me a distant scene , ( For dark and broad the gulf of time ...
... cheer The weary hills , impervious , blackening near ; Yet does she still , undaunted , throw the while On darling spots remote her tempting smile . Even now she decks for me a distant scene , ( For dark and broad the gulf of time ...
Страница 8
... cheer the poor man's solitude . By silent cottage - doors , the peasant's home Left vacant for the day , I loved to roam . But once I pierced the mazes of a wood In which a cabin undeserted stood ; There an old man an olden measure ...
... cheer the poor man's solitude . By silent cottage - doors , the peasant's home Left vacant for the day , I loved to roam . But once I pierced the mazes of a wood In which a cabin undeserted stood ; There an old man an olden measure ...
Страница 12
... cheer our wintry way ; And here the unwilling mind may more than trace The general sorrows of the human race : The churlish gales of penury , that blow Cold as the north - wind o'er a waste of snow , To them the gentle groups of bliss ...
... cheer our wintry way ; And here the unwilling mind may more than trace The general sorrows of the human race : The churlish gales of penury , that blow Cold as the north - wind o'er a waste of snow , To them the gentle groups of bliss ...
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Страница 432 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal silence : truths that wake, To perish never...
Страница 433 - Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May ! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Страница 569 - Go to the Ant, thou Sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise: which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest. How long wilt thou sleep, O Sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep. So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.
Страница 142 - I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 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.
Страница 142 - 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.
Страница 431 - Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies...
Страница 361 - Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we any thing so fair As is the smile upon thy face : Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads ; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.
Страница 236 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou...
Страница 201 - Scorn not the Sonnet: Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours! With this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow; a glow-worm lamp, It cheered mild Spenser, called from Faery-land To struggle through dark ways; and, when a damp Fell round the...
Страница 221 - 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? — 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 today?