Wordsworth, an AnthologyR. Cobden-Sanderson, 1920 - 254 pàgines |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 65.
Pàgina 14
... thou should'st be living at this hour 151 viii . It is not to be thought of that the Flood . ix . Scorn not the Sonnet : Critic , you have frowned x . Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room xi . Wansfell ! this Household has a ...
... thou should'st be living at this hour 151 viii . It is not to be thought of that the Flood . ix . Scorn not the Sonnet : Critic , you have frowned x . Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room xi . Wansfell ! this Household has a ...
Pàgina 16
... thou surely art xviii . Brougham Castle xix . Kilchurn Castle Page 185 · 187 · 190 · 191 192 · 194 · 195 197 · 199 200 · · 201 208 xx . Peele Castle · 210 xxi . Loud is the Vale ! · 213 xxii . Character of The Happy Warrior · 214 217 ...
... thou surely art xviii . Brougham Castle xix . Kilchurn Castle Page 185 · 187 · 190 · 191 192 · 194 · 195 197 · 199 200 · · 201 208 xx . Peele Castle · 210 xxi . Loud is the Vale ! · 213 xxii . Character of The Happy Warrior · 214 217 ...
Pàgina 34
... thou , O Derwent ! winding among grassy holms Where I was looking on , a babe in arms , Make ceaseless music that composed my thoughts To more than infant softness , giving me Amid the fretful dwellings of mankind A foretaste , a dim ...
... thou , O Derwent ! winding among grassy holms Where I was looking on , a babe in arms , Make ceaseless music that composed my thoughts To more than infant softness , giving me Amid the fretful dwellings of mankind A foretaste , a dim ...
Pàgina 38
... fields ; But huge and mighty forms , that do not live Like living men , moved slowly through the mind By day , and were a trouble to my dreams . Wisdom and Spirit of the universe ! Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought That givest 38.
... fields ; But huge and mighty forms , that do not live Like living men , moved slowly through the mind By day , and were a trouble to my dreams . Wisdom and Spirit of the universe ! Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought That givest 38.
Pàgina 39
William Wordsworth Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson. Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought That givest to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion , not in vain By day or star - light thus from my first dawn . Of childhood didst ...
William Wordsworth Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson. Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought That givest to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion , not in vain By day or star - light thus from my first dawn . Of childhood didst ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
babe in arms beauty behold beneath blessed bliss bower breath breeze bright Brougham Castle calm cheerful Child Child is father clouds cottage dark dear delight dost doth dream Duddon dwell earth eyes Fair seed-time fear feel flowers Friend gleam glory Grasmere green grey groves happy Hartley Coleridge hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human James Hogg Kilchurn Castle lake Laodamia light living lofty lonely look Lucy Luke melancholy mighty mind mood morning mountain murmur Nature never night o'er Ode to Duty peace Peele Castle pleasure Poets quiet rock round Ruth seemed shade Shepherd should'st sight silent Simplon Pass sing sleep smooth song sorrow soul sound spirit stars steep Stirling Castle stood stream sweet thee thine things thou art thought travelled trees Twill Vale voice wandered Wansfell waters wild wind woods Yarrow youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 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.
Pàgina 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...
Pàgina 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!
Pàgina 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.
Pàgina 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.
Pàgina 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...
Pàgina 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.
Pàgina 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...
Pàgina 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...
Pàgina 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.