What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
art thou aught beauty behold beneath bird Black Comb blest bowers breast breath bright brow calm cheer Child clouds Cuckoo dark dear deep delight doth dread dream earth fair faith Fancy fear feel flowers Friend gentle gleam glory grace Grasmere grave green grove hand happy hath hear heard heart Heaven hill holy hope hour human Idon light live lonely look lyre meek mind morning mountains Muse Nature Nature's never night Nursling o'er pain peace Peter Bell pleasure poor praise rapture rills rock round Rylstone sapience Scotland shade sigh sight silent SIMPLON PASS sleep smile smooth soft song sorrow soul sound spirit St Bees stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thrush towers trees truth Twas vale voice wandering ween wild wind wings woods words Yarrow youth
Page 234 - MILTON ! thou shouldst 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 travel...
Page 438 - High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised: 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 etemal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never...
Page 140 - 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. "And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give While she and I together live Here in this happy dell.
Page 157 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lead From, joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is...
Page 139 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet ; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food ; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine ; A Being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death ; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command ;...
Page 439 - 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.
Page 155 - Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie ; His daily Teachers had been Woods and Rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Page 437 - Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A Timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong : The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...
Page 142 - THE cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one ! Like an army defeated The Snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill...
Page 157 - The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain-winds be free To blow against thee : and, in after years.