What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Alfoxden Alfred Ainger Ambleside Askrigg Barron Field beautiful behold beneath bird Bishop of Lincoln Borrowdale bower bright brook brother Brothers Water Calais Charles Lamb Chaucer cheerful child Cockermouth Coleridge Composed 1800.—Published cottage Cuckoo Daisy dear delight Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal doth earth edition of 1807 Ennerdale eyes face fair fear flowers gentle Grasmere grave green happy hast hath heard heart heaven hill lake Lamb Leonard lines living look Lyrical Ballads mind morning Mother mountains never night Nightingale o'er orchard Peter Bell pleasure poem poet road rock round Rydal sate Scotland seen shade Shepherd side sight sing sister Skiddaw Sockburn song sonnet sorrow spirit spot stanza stone stood stream sweet thee things thou art thought Town-end trees vale voice walk wild William wind wood word Wordsworth written wrote
Page 398 - 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 291 - To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again.
Page 54 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.— That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures.
Page 329 - Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Page 52 - Once again I see These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild ; these pastoral farms, Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smoke Sent up in silence from among the trees, With some uncertain notice, as might seem, Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire The hermit sits alone.
Page 55 - Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth...
Page 162 - But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing— What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?' Second Voice 'Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast— If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.
Page 69 - When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels, Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round!
Page 292 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.