William Wordsworth ( 10 of 90 )
And beauty, for confiding youth,
Those shocks of passion can prepare
That kill the bloom before its read more
And beauty, for confiding youth,
Those shocks of passion can prepare
That kill the bloom before its time,
And blanch, without the owner's crime,
The most resplendent hair.
Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped--to gird
An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne
Whereon read more
Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped--to gird
An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne
Whereon he sits! whose deep foundations lie
In veneration and the people's love.
The bane of all that dread the Devil!
The bane of all that dread the Devil!
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising:
There are forty feeding like one!
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising:
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On read more
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The Ploughboy is whooping--anon--anon!
There's joy in the mountains:
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone.
And hear the mighty stream of tendency
Uttering, for elevation of our thought,
A clear sonorous voice, read more
And hear the mighty stream of tendency
Uttering, for elevation of our thought,
A clear sonorous voice, inaudible
To the vast multitude.
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration.
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration.
The swan on still St. Mary's lake
Float double, swan and shadow!
The swan on still St. Mary's lake
Float double, swan and shadow!
From Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;
Had trod the banks of Clyde and read more
From Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;
Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled;
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said "my winsome marrow,"
"Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,
And see the braes of Yarrow."
Brook! whose society the poet seeks,
Intent his wasted spirits to renew;
And whom the curious painter read more
Brook! whose society the poet seeks,
Intent his wasted spirits to renew;
And whom the curious painter doth pursue
Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks,
And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks.
