Composed By The Sea-Side, Near Calais, August 1802 by William Wordsworth
FAIR Star of evening, Splendour of the west, Star of my Country!–on the horizon’s brink Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem, to sink On England’s bosom; yet well pleased to rest, Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I think, Should’st be my Country’s emblem; and should’st wink, Bright […]
Composed At The Same Time And On The Same Occasion by William Wordsworth
I DROPPED my pen; and listened to the Wind That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tost– A midnight harmony; and wholly lost To the general sense of men by chains confined Of business, care, or pleasure; or resigned To timely sleep. Thought I, the impassioned strain, Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain, Like […]
Composed After A Journey Across The Hambleton Hills, Yorkshire by William Wordsworth
DARK and more dark the shades of evening fell; The wished-for point was reached–but at an hour When little could be gained from that rich dower Of prospect, whereof many thousands tell. Yet did the glowing west with marvellous power Salute us; there stood Indian citadel, Temple of Greece, and minster with its tower Substantially […]
Characteristics Of A Child Three Years Old by William Wordsworth
LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild; And Innocence hath privilege in her To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes; And feats of cunning; and the pretty round Of trespasses, affected to provoke Mock-chastisement and partnership in play. And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth, Not less if unattended and alone Than when both […]
Character Of The Happy Warrior by William Wordsworth
Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be? -It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought: Whose high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always […]
Calm is all Nature as a Resting Wheel. by William Wordsworth
Calm is all nature as a resting wheel. The kine are couched upon the dewy grass; The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass, Is cropping audibly his later meal: Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal O’er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky. Now, in this blank of things, […]
“Call Not The Royal Swede Unfortunate” by William Wordsworth
CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate, Who never did to Fortune bend the knee; Who slighted fear; rejected steadfastly Temptation; and whose kingly name and state Have “perished by his choice, and not his fate!” Hence lives He, to his inner self endeared; And hence, wherever virtue is revered, He sits a more exalted Potentate, […]
Calais, August 1802 by William Wordsworth
IS it a reed that’s shaken by the wind, Or what is it that ye go forth to see? Lords, lawyers, statesmen, squires of low degree, Men known, and men unknown, sick, lame, and blind, Post forward all, like creatures of one kind, With first-fruit offerings crowd to bend the knee In France, before the […]
Calais, August 15, 1802 by William Wordsworth
FESTIVALS have I seen that were not names: This is young Buonaparte’s natal day, And his is henceforth an established sway- Consul for life. With worship France proclaims Her approbation, and with pomps and games. Heaven grant that other Cities may be gay! Calais is not: and I have bent my way To the sea-coast, […]
By The Side Of The Grave Some Years After by William Wordsworth
LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat But benefits, his gift, we trace– Expressed in every eye we meet Round this dear Vale, his native place. To stately Hall and Cottage rude Flowed from his life what still they hold, Light pleasures, every day, renewed; And blessings half a century old. Oh true of […]
By The Seaside by William Wordsworth
The sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest, And the wild storm hath somewhere found a nest; Air slumbers-wave with wave no longer strives, Only a heaving of the deep survives, A tell-tale motion! soon will it be laid, And by the tide alone the water swayed. Stealthy withdrawings, interminglings mild Of light with […]
“By Moscow Self-Devoted To A Blaze” by William Wordsworth
By Moscow self-devoted to a blaze Of dreadful sacrifice, by Russian blood Lavished in fight with desperate hardihood; The unfeeling Elements no claim shall raise To rob our Human-nature of just praise For what she did and suffered. Pledges sure Of a deliverance absolute and pure She gave, if Faith might tread the beaten ways […]
“Brook! Whose Society The Poet Seeks” by William Wordsworth
Brook! whose society the Poet seeks, Intent his wasted spirits to renew; And whom the curious Painter doth pursue Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks, And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks; If wish were mine some type of thee to view, Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do Like Grecian Artists, give […]
British Freedom by William Wordsworth
It is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world’s praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, “with pomp of waters, unwithstood,” Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs […]
“Brave Schill! By Death Delivered” by William Wordsworth
BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight From Prussia’s timid region. Go, and rest With heroes, ‘mid the islands of the Blest, Or in the fields of empyrean light. A meteor wert thou crossing a dark night: Yet shall thy name, conspicuous and sublime, Stand in the spacious firmament of time, Fixed as a […]
Bothwell Castle by William Wordsworth
Immured in Bothwell’s Towers, at times the Brave (So beautiful is the Clyde) forgot to mourn The liberty they lost at Bannockburn. Once on those steeps I roamed at large, and have In mind the landscape, as if still in sight; The river glides, the woods before me wave; But, by occasion tempted, now I […]
Book Twelfth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored ] by William Wordsworth
LONG time have human ignorance and guilt Detained us, on what spectacles of woe Compelled to look, and inwardly oppressed With sorrow, disappointment, vexing thoughts, Confusion of the judgment, zeal decayed, And, lastly, utter loss of hope itself And things to hope for! Not with these began Our song, and not with these our song […]
Book Thirteenth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored Concluded] by William Wordsworth
FROM Nature doth emotion come, and moods Of calmness equally are Nature’s gift: This is her glory; these two attributes Are sister horns that constitute her strength. Hence Genius, born to thrive by interchange Of peace and excitation, finds in her His best and purest friend; from her receives That energy by which he seeks […]
Book Third [Residence at Cambridge] by William Wordsworth
IT was a dreary morning when the wheels Rolled over a wide plain o’erhung with clouds, And nothing cheered our way till first we saw The long-roofed chapel of King’s College lift Turrets and pinnacles in answering files, Extended high above a dusky grove. Advancing, we espied upon the road A student clothed in gown […]
Book Tenth {Residence in France continued] by William Wordsworth
IT was a beautiful and silent day That overspread the countenance of earth, Then fading with unusual quietness,– A day as beautiful as e’er was given To soothe regret, though deepening what it soothed, When by the gliding Loire I paused, and cast Upon his rich domains, vineyard and tilth, Green meadow-ground, and many-coloured woods, […]
Book Sixth [Cambridge and the Alps] by William Wordsworth
THE leaves were fading when to Esthwaite’s banks And the simplicities of cottage life I bade farewell; and, one among the youth Who, summoned by that season, reunite As scattered birds troop to the fowler’s lure, Went back to Granta’s cloisters, not so prompt Or eager, though as gay and undepressed In mind, as when […]
Book Seventh [Residence in London] by William Wordsworth
SIX changeful years have vanished since I first Poured out (saluted by that quickening breeze Which met me issuing from the City’s walls) A glad preamble to this Verse: I sang Aloud, with fervour irresistible Of short-lived transport, like a torrent bursting, From a black thunder-cloud, down Scafell’s side To rush and disappear. But soon […]
Book Second [School-Time Continued] by William Wordsworth
THUS far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much Unvisited, endeavoured to retrace The simple ways in which my childhood walked; Those chiefly that first led me to the love Of rivers, woods, and fields. The passion yet Was in its birth, sustained as might befall By nourishment that came unsought; for still From week […]
Book Ninth [Residence in France] by William Wordsworth
EVEN as a river,–partly (it might seem) Yielding to old remembrances, and swayed In part by fear to shape a way direct, That would engulph him soon in the ravenous sea– Turns, and will measure back his course, far back, Seeking the very regions which he crossed In his first outset; so have we, my […]
Book Fourth [Summer Vacation] by William Wordsworth
BRIGHT was the summer’s noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top Standing alone, as from a rampart’s edge, I overlooked the bed of Windermere, Like a vast river, stretching in the sun. With exultation, at my feet I saw Lake, islands, promontories, […]
Book Fourteenth [conclusion] by William Wordsworth
In one of those excursions (may they ne’er Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern tracts Of Cambria ranging with a youthful friend, I left Bethgelert’s huts at couching-time, And westward took my way, to see the sun Rise, from the top of Snowdon. To the door Of a rude cottage at the mountain’s base We […]
Book First [Introduction-Childhood and School Time] by William Wordsworth
OH there is blessing in this gentle breeze, A visitant that while it fans my cheek Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings From the green fields, and from yon azure sky. Whate’er its mission, the soft breeze can come To none more grateful than to me; escaped From the vast city, where I […]
Book Fifth-Books by William Wordsworth
WHEN Contemplation, like the night-calm felt Through earth and sky, spreads widely, and sends deep Into the soul its tranquillising power, Even then I sometimes grieve for thee, O Man, Earth’s paramount Creature! not so much for woes That thou endurest; heavy though that weight be, Cloud-like it mounts, or touched with light divine Doth […]
Book Eleventh: France [concluded] by William Wordsworth
FROM that time forth, Authority in France Put on a milder face; Terror had ceased, Yet everything was wanting that might give Courage to them who looked for good by light Of rational Experience, for the shoots And hopeful blossoms of a second spring: Yet, in me, confidence was unimpaired; The Senate’s language, and the […]
Book Eighth: Retrospect–Love Of Nature Leading To Love Of Man by William Wordsworth
WHAT sounds are those, Helvellyn, that are heard Up to thy summit, through the depth of air Ascending, as if distance had the power To make the sounds more audible? What crowd Covers, or sprinkles o’er, yon village green? Crowd seems it, solitary hill! to thee, Though but a little family of men, Shepherds and […]
“Behold Vale! I Said, When I Shall Con” by William Wordsworth
“Beloved Vale!” I said, “when I shall con Those many records of my childish years, Remembrance of myself and of my peers Will press me down: to think of what is gone Will be an awful thought, if life have one.” But, when into the Vale I came, no fears Distressed me; from mine eyes […]
Beggars by William Wordsworth
She had a tall man’s height or more; Her face from summer’s noontide heat No bonnet shaded, but she wore A mantle, to her very feet Descending with a graceful flow, And on her head a cap as white as new-fallen snow. Her skin was of Egyptian brown: Haughty, as if her eye had seen […]
“Avaunt All Specious Pliancy Of Mind” by William Wordsworth
AVAUNT all specious pliancy of mind In men of low degree, all smooth pretence! I better like a blunt indifference, And self-respecting slowness, disinclined To win me at first sight: and be there joined Patience and temperance with this high reserve, Honour that knows the path and will not swerve; Affections, which, if put to […]
At Applewaite, Near Keswick 1804 by William Wordsworth
BEAUMONT! it was thy wish that I should rear A seemly Cottage in this sunny Dell, On favoured ground, thy gift, where I might dwell In neighbourhood with One to me most dear, That undivided we from year to year Might work in our high Calling-a bright hope To which our fancies, mingling, gave free […]
” As faith thus sanctified the warrior’s crest” by William Wordsworth
As faith thus sanctified the warrior’s crest While from the Papal Unity there came, What feebler means had failed to give, one aim Diffused thro’ all the regions of the West; So does her Unity its power attest By works of Art, that shed, on the outward frame Of worship, glory and grace, which who […]
Artegal And Elidure by William Wordsworth
WHERE be the temples which, in Britain’s Isle, For his paternal Gods, the Trojan raised? Gone like a morning dream, or like a pile Of clouds that in cerulean ether blazed! Ere Julius landed on her white-cliffed shore, They sank, delivered o’er To fatal dissolution; and, I ween, No vestige then was left that such […]
Anticipation, October 1803 by William Wordsworth
SHOUT, for a mighty Victory is won! On British ground the Invaders are laid low; The breath of Heaven has drifted them like snow, And left them lying in the silent sun, Never to rise again!-the work is done. Come forth, ye old men, now in peaceful show And greet your sons! drums beat and […]
Animal Tranquility And Decay by William Wordsworth
The little hedgerow birds, That peck along the roads, regard him not. He travels on, and in his face, his step, His gait, is one expression: every limb, His look and bending figure, all bespeak A man who does not move with pain, but moves With thought.-He is insensibly subdued To settled quiet: he is […]
Anecdote For Fathers by William Wordsworth
I HAVE a boy of five years old; His face is fair and fresh to see; His limbs are cast in beauty’s mold And dearly he loves me. One morn we strolled on our dry walk, Or quiet home all full in view, And held such intermitted talk As we are wont to do. My […]
Andrew Jones by William Wordsworth
I HATE that Andrew Jones; he’ll breed His children up to waste and pillage. I wish the press-gang or the drum With its tantara sound would come, And sweep him from the village! I said not this, because he loves Through the long day to swear and tipple; But for the poor dear sake of […]