William Wordsworth ( 10 of 90 )
But hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.
But hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.
The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.
The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
When such are wanted.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
When such are wanted.
Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast
False fires, that others may be lost.
Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast
False fires, that others may be lost.
Like--but oh! how different!
Like--but oh! how different!
I heard a Stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale, this very day;
His voice was buried read more
I heard a Stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale, this very day;
His voice was buried among trees,
Yet to be come at by the breeze:
He did not cease; but cooed--and cooed:
And somewhat pensively he wooed:
He sang of love, with quiet blending,
Slow to begin, and never ending;
Of serious faith, and inward glee;
That was the song,--the song for me!
Of vast circumference and gloom profound,
This solitary Tree! A living thing
Produced too slowly ever to read more
Of vast circumference and gloom profound,
This solitary Tree! A living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed.
Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows
That for oblivion that their daily birth
From all the read more
Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows
That for oblivion that their daily birth
From all the fuming vanities of earth.
List--'twas the cuckoo--O, with what delight
Heard I that voice! and catch it now, though faint,
Far read more
List--'twas the cuckoo--O, with what delight
Heard I that voice! and catch it now, though faint,
Far off and faint, and melting into air,
Yet not to be mistaken. Hark again!
Those louder cries give notice that the bird,
Although invisible as Echo's self,
Is wheeling hitherward.
Bright flowers, whose home is everywhere
Bold in maternal nature's care
And all the long year through read more
Bright flowers, whose home is everywhere
Bold in maternal nature's care
And all the long year through the heir
Of joy and sorrow,
Methinks that there abides in thee
Some concord with humanity,
Given to no other flower I see
The forest through.