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Alfoxden Alps arms Babe BEGGAR beneath Betty Betty Foy breath Charles Lamb child cliffs clouds Coleridge composed cottage couplet dark dead dear deep door Dorothy Wordsworth edition of 1836 ELDRED ELEANOR eyes Father fear feel gale gloom Grasmere green hand hath Hawkshead head hear heard heart Heaven HERBERT hills hope hour IDONEA Kilve LACY lake light lines live look Lyrical Ballads MARMADUKE mind moon mountain Nature never night o'er OSWALD pain passed Pilgrims plain pleasure poem poor Quantock Hills rocks round Rydal Mount Salisbury Plain scene shade sigh silent sleep smiles snow soul sound spot stanza steeps storm streams Sugh tears thee things thou thought tree Twas vale village voice wandering wild wilder graces William Wordsworth wind Woman woods words Wordsworth written ΙΟ
Page 230 - Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell. And two are gone to sea. "Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And in the churchyard cottage I Dwell near them, with my mother.
Page 267 - I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Page xxxiv - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; A privacy of glorious light is thine, Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam, — True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home ! WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
Page 239 - At her feet he bowed he fell, he lay down at her feet he bowed, he fell where he bowed, there he fell down dead...
Page 224 - AT the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a thrush that sings loud — it has sung for three years ; Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the bird. Tis a note of enchantment ; what ails her ? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees ; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
Page 272 - tis a dull and endless strife : Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music ! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it. And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings i He, too, is no mean preacher : Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.
Page 109 - If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure, Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know, that pride, Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, Is littleness; that he, who feels contempt For any living thing, hath faculties Which he has never used; that thought with him Is in its infancy.
Page 271 - Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress; That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness. 'Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum Of things for ever speaking, That nothing of itself will come, But we must still be seeking? ' — Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, Conversing as I may, I sit upon this old grey stone, And dream my time away.
Page 269 - It is the first mild day of March: Each minute sweeter than before, The red-breast sings from the tall larch That stands beside our door. There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare, And grass in the green field.
Page 258 - Suck, little babe, oh suck again! It cools my blood; it cools my brain; Thy lips I feel them, baby! they Draw from my heart the pain away. Oh! press me with thy little hand; It loosens something at my chest; About that tight and deadly band I feel thy little fingers prest. The breeze I see is in the tree: It comes to cool my babe and me.