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Alps art thou Babe beneath Benjamin Betty Betty Foy Bird bowers breast breath bright brook Brother CHARLES LAMB cheerful Child church-yard cliffs clouds cottage crag dear deep delight door dread Ennerdale eyes Fancy Father fear flowers Friend gale gleam gone Grasmere grave green grief happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven hills hope horse hour Idiot Boy images Imagination Johnny Kilve Lamb LEONARD light lived look lyre Maid mind Moon morning Mother mountain never night o'er pain Paradise Lost pleasure Poems Poet poor porringer PRIEST rill rocks round Rydal Mount shade Shepherd side sight silent sleep smiles snow song soul sound spirit star steep Sugh summer Susan sweet tears tell thee There's thine things thou art thought trees Twas Twill vale voice Waggon waterfall ween wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wood Youth
Page 168 - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
Page xxviii - As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie Couched on the bald top of an eminence ; Wonder to all who do the same espy, By what means it could thither come, and whence; So that it seems a thing endued with sense : Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself...
Page 15 - Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray : And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day The solitary child. No mate, no comrade Lucy knew ; She dwelt on a wide moor, — The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You yet may spy the fawn at play, The hare upon the green ; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. ' To-night will be a stormy night — You to the town must go ; And take a lantern, Child, to light Your mother through the snow.
Page 3 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Page 248 - Therefore, although it be a history Homely and rude, I will relate the same For the delight of a few natural hearts ; And, with yet fonder feeling, for the sake Of youthful Poets, who among these hills Will be my second self when I am gone.
Page 42 - When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels, Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round ! Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep.
Page 255 - With others round them, earnest all and blithe, Would Michael exercise his heart with looks Of fond correction and reproof bestowed Upon the Child, if he disturbed the sheep By catching at their legs, or with his shouts Scared them, while they lay still beneath the shears.
Page 17 - ... wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide. At daybreak on a hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They wept — and, turning homeward, cried, "In Heaven we all shall meet!
Page 198 - Alas ! the fowls of heaven have wings, And blasts of heaven will aid their flight ; They mount — how short a voyage brings The wanderers back to their delight ! Chains tie us down by land and sea ; And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.
Page 268 - He at the building of this Sheepfold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died. Three years, or little more, did Isabel Survive her Husband: at her death the estate Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. The Cottage which was named the EVENING STAR...