Wordsworth, an Anthology

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R. Cobden-Sanderson, 1920 - 254 pÓgines
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PÓgina 68 - SEVEN. -A SIMPLE child That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; •*—Her beauty made me glad. 22 " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
PÓgina 233 - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy soul's immensity ! Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage ! thou eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep Haunted for ever by the eternal mind — Mighty prophet ! Seer blest, On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find...
PÓgina 161 - It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen!
PÓgina 172 - SHE was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
PÓgina 89 - THREE years she grew in sun and shower ; Then Nature said : " A lovelier flower On earth was never sown ; This child I to myself will take ; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. " Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse ; and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power, To kindle or restrain.
PÓgina 234 - Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realized...
PÓgina 236 - The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober coloring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
PÓgina 66 - When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies ; oh ! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance — If I should be where I no more can hear } Thy voice...
PÓgina 62 - Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind...
PÓgina 64 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample powet To chasten and subdue.

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