...lofty regions—for the fresh green places of refuge which it has offered me in many an hour when • ' The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world Have hung upon the beatings of my heart;' and when I have found in your thoughts and images such relief as the vision of your ' Sylvan Wye,'...

...inspired him with : — "Oh! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight, when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, — How oft in spirit have I t«rned to thee, ' 0 sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer through the woods, How...

...vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft — In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart — • How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye ! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How...

...falsely pronounced to be impossible to be continuous, as Wordsworth proves himself, when he says : " The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion ;...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms were then to me An appetite, a feeling, and a love." But, in addition to this,...

...falsely pronounced to be impossible to be continuous, as Wordsworth proves himself, when he says : "The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion ;...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms were then to me An appetite, a feeling, and a love." But, in addition to this,...

...interesting river. Says he — How oft — In darkness, and amid the many simpes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart — How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 0 sylvan Wye! Thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often...

...inspired him with:— " Oh! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight, when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the...world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart,— How oft in spirit have I turned to thee, 0 sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer through the woods, How often...

...And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all. I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion ;...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and thfeir forms, were then to me An appetite : a feeling and a jove, That had no need of a...

...waved are shredless dust ere now, And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow. Byron. Cataract. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion ;...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, have been to me An appetite. — Wordsworth. Caution. Though you have acted...

...their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all. — I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion :...The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to ma An appetite ; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a...