The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Volumen8

William Paterson, 1886

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Página 212 - Of mountain torrents ; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received Into the bosom of the steady lake.
Página 27 - Mourn rather for that holy Spirit, Sweet as the spring, as ocean deep ; For Her : who, ere her summer faded, Has sunk into a breathless sleep.
Página 312 - No product here the barren hills afford, But man and steel, the soldier and his sword. No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter lingering chills the lap of May; No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast, But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.
Página 159 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
Página 26 - rapt One, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth : And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth. Like clouds that rake the mountain-summits, Or waves that own no curbing hand, How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land ! Yet I, whose lids from infant slumbers Were earlier raised, remain to hear A timid voice, that asks in whispers, " Who next will drop and disappear...
Página 26 - From sign to sign, its stedfast course, Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source ; The 'rapt One, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in eartli : And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
Página 18 - And when the precious hours of leisure came, Knowledge and wisdom, gained from converse sweet With books, or while he ranged the crowded streets With a keen eye, and overflowing heart: So genius triumphed over seeming wrong, And poured out truth in works by thoughtful love Inspired — works potent over smiles and tears.
Página 116 - A POET ! — He hath put his heart to school, Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff Which Art hath lodged within his hand — must laugh By precept only, and shed tears by rule. THy Art be Nature ; the live current quaff, And let the groveller sip his stagnant pool, In fear that else. when Critics grave and cool Have killed him, Scorn should write his epitaph. How does the Meadow-flower its bloom unfold ? Because the lovely little flower is free Down to its root, and, in that freedom, bold;...
Página 173 - DISCOURSE was deemed Man's noblest attribute, And written words the glory of his hand ; Then followed Printing with enlarged command For thought — dominion vast and absolute For spreading truth, and making love expand. Now prose and verse sunk into disrepute Must lacquey a dumb Art that best can suit The taste of this once-intellectual Land. A backward movement surely have we here, From manhood, — back to childhood ; for the age — Back towards caverned life's first rude career.
Página 19 - ... strange, Many and strange, that hung about his life ; Still, at the centre of his being, lodged A soul by resignation sanctified : And if too often, self-reproached, he felt That innocence belongs not to our kind, A power that never ceased to abide in him. Charity, 'mid the multitude of sins That she can cover, left not his exposed To an unforgiving judgment from just Heaven. O, he was good, if e'er a good man lived ! » * • » • From a reflecting mind and sorrowing heart Those simple lines...

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