The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Volumen4Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green, 1827 |
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Página 3
... o'er the earth . Ah , then , Beloved ! pleasing was the smart , And the tear precious in compassion shed For Her , who , pierced by sorrow's thrilling dart , Did meekly bear the pang unmerited ; Meek as that emblem of her lowly heart ...
... o'er the earth . Ah , then , Beloved ! pleasing was the smart , And the tear precious in compassion shed For Her , who , pierced by sorrow's thrilling dart , Did meekly bear the pang unmerited ; Meek as that emblem of her lowly heart ...
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... o'er wide realms the tempest breaks , Needful amid life's ordinary woes ; — Hence , not for them unfitted who would bless A happy hour with holier happiness . He serves the Muses erringly and ill , Whose aim is pleasure light and ...
... o'er wide realms the tempest breaks , Needful amid life's ordinary woes ; — Hence , not for them unfitted who would bless A happy hour with holier happiness . He serves the Muses erringly and ill , Whose aim is pleasure light and ...
Página 17
... o'er the earth like an angel of light . Pass , pass who will , yon chantry door ; And , through the chink in the fractured floor . Look down , and see a griesly sight ; A vault where the bodies are buried upright ! There , face by face ...
... o'er the earth like an angel of light . Pass , pass who will , yon chantry door ; And , through the chink in the fractured floor . Look down , and see a griesly sight ; A vault where the bodies are buried upright ! There , face by face ...
Página 37
... o'er whom the blessed Dove Vouchsafed in gentleness to brood While she the holy work pursued . " 66 Uplift the Standard ! " was the cry From all the Listeners that stood round , " Plant it , by this we live or die " . The Norton ceased ...
... o'er whom the blessed Dove Vouchsafed in gentleness to brood While she the holy work pursued . " 66 Uplift the Standard ! " was the cry From all the Listeners that stood round , " Plant it , by this we live or die " . The Norton ceased ...
Página 40
... o'er the weight Of seventy years , to higher height ; Magnific limbs of withered state , - A face to fear and venerate , — Eyes dark and strong , and on his head Bright locks of silver hair , thick - spread , Which a brown morion half ...
... o'er the weight Of seventy years , to higher height ; Magnific limbs of withered state , - A face to fear and venerate , — Eyes dark and strong , and on his head Bright locks of silver hair , thick - spread , Which a brown morion half ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth: With a Memoir, Volumen4 William Wordsworth Vista completa - 1865 |
Términos y frases comunes
Banner Barden Fell Barden Tower beautiful behold beneath bless Bolton Bolton Abbey bowers brave breast breath bright calm Canute cheer Child city of Durham Coniston Creature curacy dark dear deep delight doth Duddon earth Emily endeavour fair fear feelings flowers Francis Friend gentle gliding grace grave green hand happy hath hear heard heart Heaven hill holy honour hope human Isle of Walney Lady language live lonely look Lord Loweswater Maid metre mind morning mortal Mother mountain murmur nature Norton o'er passion peace pleasure Poem Poet Poetry prayer Reader River RIVER DUDDON Robert Walker rocks round Rylstone Seathwaite side sigh sight silent Simon rouse sing smooth solitude song Sonnets sorrow soul spirit spread stand stood sweet tears thee things thou thought Tower Trajan trees Ulpha vale voice Wharf whence White Doe wind youth
Pasajes populares
Página 350 - Upon the growing Boy, But He beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
Página 213 - 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.
Página 360 - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen, because, in that condition, the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language ; because in that condition of life our elementary feelings coexist in a state of greater simplicity, and, consequently, may be more accurately contemplated, and more forcibly communicated...
Página 352 - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realized...
Página 294 - The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control; But in the quietness of thought: Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
Página 350 - See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral...
Página 347 - 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...
Página 333 - So once it would have been, — 'tis so no more ; I have submitted to a new control : A power is gone, which nothing can restore ; A deep distress hath humanised my Soul.
Página 367 - And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet Morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear And weep the more because I weep in vain.
Página 367 - ... that not only the language of a large portion of every good poem, even of the most elevated character, must necessarily, except with reference to the metre, in no respect differ from that of good prose, but likewise that some of the most interesting parts of the best poems will be found to be strictly the language of prose when prose is well written. The truth of this assertion might be demonstrated by innumerable passages from almost all the poetical writings, even of Milton himself.