The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Volumen1Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green & Longman, 1832 |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 30
Página 8
... hope to bring her near ; “ Nay , patience ! patience , little boy ! Your tender mother cannot hear . ' I told of hills , and far - off towns , And long , long vales to travel through ; - He listens , puzzled , sore perplexed , But he ...
... hope to bring her near ; “ Nay , patience ! patience , little boy ! Your tender mother cannot hear . ' I told of hills , and far - off towns , And long , long vales to travel through ; - He listens , puzzled , sore perplexed , But he ...
Página 36
... Hope - Night Sounds Conclusion . - Night FAR from my dearest Friend , ' tis mine to rove Through bare grey dell , high wood , and pastoral cove ; Where Derwent stops his course to hear the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high ...
... Hope - Night Sounds Conclusion . - Night FAR from my dearest Friend , ' tis mine to rove Through bare grey dell , high wood , and pastoral cove ; Where Derwent stops his course to hear the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high ...
Página 37
... hope itself was all I knew of pain . For then , even then , the little heart would beat At times , while young Content forsook her seat , And wild Impatience , panting upward , showed Where , tipped with gold , the mountain - summits ...
... hope itself was all I knew of pain . For then , even then , the little heart would beat At times , while young Content forsook her seat , And wild Impatience , panting upward , showed Where , tipped with gold , the mountain - summits ...
Página 48
... Hope , first pouring from her blessed horn Her dawn , far lovelier than the Moon's own morn ; ' Till higher mounted , strives in vain to cheer The weary hills , impervious , blackening near ; Yet does she still , undaunted , throw the ...
... Hope , first pouring from her blessed horn Her dawn , far lovelier than the Moon's own morn ; ' Till higher mounted , strives in vain to cheer The weary hills , impervious , blackening near ; Yet does she still , undaunted , throw the ...
Página 57
... hope its sorrows to remove , A heart that could not much itself approve O'er Gallia's wastes of corn dejected led , Her road elms rustling high above my head , Or through her truant pathways ' native charms , By secret villages and ...
... hope its sorrows to remove , A heart that could not much itself approve O'er Gallia's wastes of corn dejected led , Her road elms rustling high above my head , Or through her truant pathways ' native charms , By secret villages and ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
Alps art thou beneath Benjamin Betty Betty Foy Bird bowers breast breath bright Brother CHARLES LAMB cheer Child church-yard cliffs clouds Coleorton cottage crag dear delight door Ennerdale eyes Fancy Father fear feel flowers Friend gone Grasmere grave green happy hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven hills hope hour Idiot Boy images Imagination Johnny Kilve Lamb LEONARD light living look lyre mind Moon morning Mother mountain nature never night o'er Ossian pain Paradise Lost pleasure Poems Poet poetry porringer PRIEST racter Reader rill rocks round shade Shakspeare Shepherd side sight silent sing Skiddaw sleep smiles snow solitude song soul sound spirit spot star steep stone Sugh summer Susan sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought trees Twas vale voice Waggon ween wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wood youth
Pasajes populares
Página xxvii - As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie Couched on the bald top of an eminence ; Wonder to all who do the same espy, By what means it could thither come, and whence; So that it seems a thing endued with sense : Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself...
Página 122 - I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee. 'Tis past, that melancholy dream! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel The joy of my desire; And she I cherished turned her wheel Beside an English fire. Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed The bowers where Lucy played; And thine too is the last green field That Lucy's eyes surveyed.
Página 14 - Then did the little maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree." "You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the churchyard 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.
Página 120 - My horse moved on; hoof after hoof He raised, and never stopped : When down behind the cottage roof, At once, the bright moon dropped. What fond and wayward thoughts will slide Into a lover's head! "O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!
Página 336 - Works, it is this, — that every author, as far as he is great and at the same time original, has had the task of creating the taste by which he is to be enjoyed : so has it been, so will it continue to be.
Página 252 - Joyous as morning, Thou art laughing and scorning ; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, And, though little troubled with sloth, Drunken Lark ! thou would'st be loth To be such a traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain River Pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver...
Página 12 - They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank ; And further there were none...
Página 182 - And with his kinsman's help and his own thrift He quickly will repair this loss, and then He may return to us. If here he stay, What can be done? Where every one is poor, What can be gained?
Página 4 - Oh ! pleasant, pleasant were the days, The time, when, in our childish plays, My sister Emmeline and I Together chased the butterfly ! A very hunter did I rush Upon the prey : — with leaps and springs I followed on from brake to bush ; But she, God love her ! feared to brush The dust from off its wings.
Página 20 - What ails thee, young One? what? Why pull so at thy cord ? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be; Rest, little young One, rest; what is't that aileth thee?