Select Poems of William Wordsworth

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Harper & brothers, 1889 - 258 pages
 

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Page 127 - The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Page 101 - 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 to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Page 52 - All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth ; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half create *, And what perceive...
Page 122 - 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 105 - 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.
Page 173 - Rebellious passion: for the Gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul; A fervent, not ungovernable, love. Thy transports moderate; and meekly mourn When I depart, for brief is my sojourn —
Page 172 - I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride ; Of Him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along the mountain-side : By our own spirits are we deified : We Poets in our youth begin in gladness ; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
Page 53 - Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations!
Page 186 - Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements, To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon.
Page 38 - Then did the little Maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the church-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree." "You run about, my little Maid, Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the church-yard laid, Then ye are only five." "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little Maid replied, "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.

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