The Earlier Poems of William Wordsworth: Corrected as in the Latest Editions. With Preface, and Notes Showing the Text as it Stood in 1815

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Edward Moxon, 1857 - 435 pages
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Page 246 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition , sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn ; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Page 265 - 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 ? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending ; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending ; I listened, motionless and still ; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it...
Page 371 - Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we anything 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.
Page 309 - 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 343 - tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure : — But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
Page 264 - 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; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Page 433 - And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Forebode not any * severing of our loves ! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might ; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they...
Page 315 - The picture of the mind revives again: While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years.
Page 89 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to love. A Violet by a mossy stone Half-hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
Page 11 - A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad : Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be 1" " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.

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