William Wordsworth ( 10 of 90 )
Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little read more
Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English Robin;
The bird that comes about our doors
When autumn winds are sobbing?
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for read more
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years.
Behold, within the leafy shade,
Those bright blue eggs together laid!
On me the chance-discovered sight
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Behold, within the leafy shade,
Those bright blue eggs together laid!
On me the chance-discovered sight
Gleamed like a vision of delight.
A cheerful life is what the Muses love,
A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
A cheerful life is what the Muses love,
A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Among the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with read more
Among the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little wren's
In snugness may compare.
A famous man is Robin Hood
The English ballad-singer's joy.
A famous man is Robin Hood
The English ballad-singer's joy.
There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
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There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore.
Hail to thee, far above the rest
In joy of voice and pinion!
Thou, linnet! in thy read more
Hail to thee, far above the rest
In joy of voice and pinion!
Thou, linnet! in thy green array,
Presiding spirit here to-day,
Dost lead the revels of the May;
And this is thy dominion.
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And read more
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And humbler growths as moved with one desire
Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire,
Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay
With his red stalks upon this sunny day!