William Wordsworth ( 10 of 90 )
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
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Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
And in the light of truth thy
Bondman let me live!
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.
Why should not grave Philosophy be styled.
Herself, a dreamer of a kindred stock,
A dreamer, yet read more
Why should not grave Philosophy be styled.
Herself, a dreamer of a kindred stock,
A dreamer, yet more spiritless and dull?
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven
This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven;
The rueful conflict, the read more
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven
This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven;
The rueful conflict, the heart riven
With vain endeavour,
And memory of earth's bitter leaven
Effaced forever.
Like--but oh! how different!
Like--but oh! how different!
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.
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.
Small service is true service while it lasts:
Of humblest friends, bright Creature! scorn not one;
The read more
Small service is true service while it lasts:
Of humblest friends, bright Creature! scorn not one;
The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew drop from the Sun.
I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That even read more
I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That even there was intercourse
Between the living and the dead.
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet read more
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart.
