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altered appeared beauty birds bright brother called child close clouds composed dear delight doth earlier earth expressed face fair faith fear feeling fields flowers give Grasmere grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour human imagination lake land less light lines live look mind morning mortal mountains nature never night objects once passed passion peace perhaps pleasure poem poet present published reason replaced rest rock round says seemed seen sense side sight silent song sonnet sorrow soul sound speak spirit spring stanza stars stood stream sweet tell thee things thou thought trees truth turned voice walked waters wild wind Wordsworth writes written Yarrow youth
Página 52 - 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.
Página 182 - Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Página 54 - The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Página 201 - 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.
Página 221 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng; The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea 30 Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart of May...
Página 176 - No nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. 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?
Página 226 - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Página 223 - And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part ; Filling from time to time his ' humorous stage With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, That life brings with her in her equipage; As if his whole vocation Were endless imitation.
Página 45 - These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration...