The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth: In Six Volumes

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Página 393 - As when far off at sea a fleet descried Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring Their spicy drugs ; they on the trading flood, Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape, Ply stemming nightly toward the pole : so seem'd Far off the flying fiend.
Página 331 - And in my breast the imperfect joys expire ; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men ; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear ; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, And weep the more because I weep in vain.
Página 18 - How exquisitely the individual Mind (And the progressive powers perhaps no less Of the whole species) to the external World Is fitted :— and how exquisitely, too — Theme this but little heard of among men — The external World is fitted to the Mind ; And the creation (by no lower name Can it be called) which they with blended might Accomplish : — this is our high argument.
Página 114 - Possessions vanish, and opinions change, And passions hold a fluctuating seat : But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken, And subject neither to eclipse nor wane, Duty exists; — immutably survive, For our support, the measures and the forms, Which an abstract intelligence supplies; Whose kingdom is, where time and space are not.
Página 148 - Eternal ! What if these Did never break the stillness that prevails Here, if the solemn nightingale be mute, And the soft woodlark here did never chant Her vespers, Nature fails not to provide Impulse and utterance. The whispering air Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights, And blind recesses of the caverned rocks...
Página 321 - For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book, Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ; Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble, with too much conceiving ; And, so sepulchred, in such pomp dost lie, That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.
Página 337 - He considers man and the objects that surround him as acting and re-acting upon each other, so as to produce an infinite complexity of pain and pleasure; he considers man in his own nature and in his ordinary life as contemplating this with a certain quantity of immediate knowledge, with certain convictions, intuitions, and deductions, which...
Página 18 - I, long before the blissful hour arrives, Would chant, in lonely peace, the spousal verse Of this great consummation : — and, by words Which speak of nothing more than what we are, Would I arouse the sensual from their sleep Of Death, and win the vacant and the vain To noble raptures...
Página 334 - What is a Poet ? To whom does he address himself? And what language is to be expected from him 1—He is a man speaking to men : a man, it is true, endowed with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among mankind...
Página 354 - Ye winds that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me?

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