The poetical works of William Wordsworth, Band 3 |
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Seite vi
... sweet it is , when mother Fancy rocks Personal talk 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 Continued Continued Concluded To B. R. Haydon From the dark chambers of dejection freed Fair Prime of life ! were it enough to gild I watch , and ...
... sweet it is , when mother Fancy rocks Personal talk 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 Continued Continued Concluded To B. R. Haydon From the dark chambers of dejection freed Fair Prime of life ! were it enough to gild I watch , and ...
Seite 7
... British Hill is nobler far ; he shrouds His double front among Atlantic clouds , And pours forth streams more sweet than Castaly . VI . THERE is a little unpretending Rill Of limpid SONNETS . 7 Pelion and Ossa flourish side by side.
... British Hill is nobler far ; he shrouds His double front among Atlantic clouds , And pours forth streams more sweet than Castaly . VI . THERE is a little unpretending Rill Of limpid SONNETS . 7 Pelion and Ossa flourish side by side.
Seite 8
... sweet and still ! Months perish with their moons ; year treads on year ; But , faithful Emma ! thou with me canst say That , while ten thousand pleasures disappear , And flies their memory fast almost as they ; The immortal Spirit of ...
... sweet and still ! Months perish with their moons ; year treads on year ; But , faithful Emma ! thou with me canst say That , while ten thousand pleasures disappear , And flies their memory fast almost as they ; The immortal Spirit of ...
Seite 18
... sweet Book , Are cowslip - bank and shady willow - tree ; And the fresh meads - where flowed , from every nook Of thy full bosom , gladsome Piety ! XVII . TO THE POET , JOHN dyer . BARD 18 SONNETS . Written upon a Blank Leaf in "The ...
... sweet Book , Are cowslip - bank and shady willow - tree ; And the fresh meads - where flowed , from every nook Of thy full bosom , gladsome Piety ! XVII . TO THE POET , JOHN dyer . BARD 18 SONNETS . Written upon a Blank Leaf in "The ...
Seite 28
... sweet indeed If Thou the spirit give by which I pray : My unassisted heart is barren clay , That of its native self can nothing feed : Of good and pious works thou art the seed , That quickens only where thou say'st it may : Unless thou ...
... sweet indeed If Thou the spirit give by which I pray : My unassisted heart is barren clay , That of its native self can nothing feed : Of good and pious works thou art the seed , That quickens only where thou say'st it may : Unless thou ...
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admiration art thou aught beauty behold beneath blind brave breath bright brow Busk Calais cheer clouds COLEORTON COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA Cruachan dark dear delight doth dream earth fair faith Fancy fear feel flowers genius gentle glory grace GRASMERE grave ground grove Guernica happy hast hath heard heart Heaven hill honour hope human King King Arthur labour Lady liberty light living lonely Lord meek Merlin mighty mind mortal mountains Muse nature Nature's night o'er Ossian pain Paradise Lost passion peace pensive Poems Poet poetry praise pure rapture Rob Roy rock RYDAL MOUNT Scotland Shakspeare shore sigh sight silent sleep soft song Sonnet sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood stream strife sweet thee thine things thou art thought towers triumph truth vale voice wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wing Yarrow Ye men youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 188 - 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.
Seite 16 - Sleepless! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear tonight...
Seite 3 - NUNS fret not at their convent's narrow room ; And hermits are contented with their cells ; And students with their pensive citadels Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom, Sit blithe and happy ; bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells, Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells : In truth, the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is...
Seite 200 - ANOTHER year ! — another deadly blow ! Another mighty Empire overthrown ! And We are left, or shall be left, alone ; The last that dare to struggle with the Foe. Tis well ! from this day forward we shall know That in ourselves our safety must be sought ; That by our own right hands it must be wrought ; That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low.
Seite 35 - Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. — Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Seite 50 - SCORN not the Sonnet ; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours ; with this key Shakspeare 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...
Seite 123 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; 0 listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Seite 187 - O Friend ! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom ! — We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest : The wealthiest man among us is the best: No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us.
Seite 41 - Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Seite 186 - Two Voices are there ; one is of the sea, One of the mountains ; each a mighty Voice : In both from age to age thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen music, Liberty...