Memory by William Wordsworth
A pen-to register; a key- That winds through secret wards Are well assigned to Memory By allegoric Bards. As aptly, also, might be given A Pencil to her hand; That, softening objects, sometimes even Outstrips the heart’s demand; That smooths foregone distress, the lines Of lingering care subdues, Long-vanished happiness refines, And clothes in brighter […]
Memorials Of A Tour Of Scotland, 1803 VI. Glen-Almain, Or, The Narrow Glen by William Wordsworth
IN this still place, remote from men, Sleeps Ossian, in the NARROW GLEN; In this still place, where murmurs on But one meek streamlet, only one: He sang of battles, and the breath Of stormy war, and violent death; And should, methinks, when all was past, Have rightfully been laid at last Where rocks were […]
Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, by William Wordsworth
THOUGHTS SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS OF NITH, NEAR THE POET’S RESIDENCE TOO frail to keep the lofty vow That must have followed when his brow Was wreathed–“The Vision” tells us how– With holly spray, He faltered, drifted to and fro, And passed away. Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng Our minds […]
Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XIV. Fly, Some Kind Haringer, To Grasmere-Dale by William Wordsworth
FLY, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale! Say that we come, and come by this day’s light; Fly upon swiftest wing round field and height, But chiefly let one Cottage hear the tale; There let a mystery of joy prevail, The kitten frolic, like a gamesome sprite, And Rover whine, as at a second sight Of […]
Matthew by William Wordsworth
IF Nature, for a favourite child, In thee hath tempered so her clay, That every hour thy heart runs wild, Yet never once doth go astray, Read o’er these lines; and then review This tablet, that thus humbly rears In such diversity of hue Its history of two hundred years. –When through this little wreck […]
Mark The Concentrated Hazels That Enclose by William Wordsworth
MARK the concentred hazels that enclose Yon old grey Stone, protected from the ray Of noontide suns:–and even the beams that play And glance, while wantonly the rough wind blows, Are seldom free to touch the moss that grows Upon that roof, amid embowering gloom, The very image framing of a Tomb, In which some […]
Lucy Gray [or Solitude] by William Wordsworth
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray, And when I cross’d the Wild, I chanc’d to see at break of day The solitary Child. No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wild Moor, The sweetest Thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You yet may spy the Fawn at play, The […]
Look Now On That Adventurer Who Hath Paid by William Wordsworth
LOOK now on that Adventurer who hath paid His vows to Fortune; who, in cruel slight Of virtuous hope, of liberty, and right, Hath followed wheresoe’er a way was made By the blind Goddess,–ruthless, undismayed; And so hath gained at length a prosperous height, Round which the elements of worldly might Beneath his haughty feet, […]
Lines Written On A Blank Leaf In A Copy Of The Author’s Poem “The Excursion,” by William Wordsworth
Upon Hearing Of The Death Of The Late Vicar Of Kendal TO public notice, with reluctance strong, Did I deliver this unfinished Song; Yet for one happy issue;–and I look With self-congratulation on the Book Which pious, learned, MURFITT saw and read;– Upon my thoughts his saintly Spirit fed; He conned the new-born Lay with […]
Lines Written In Early Spring by William Wordsworth
I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man. Through […]
Lines On The Expected Invasion, 1803 by William Wordsworth
COME ye–who, if (which Heaven avert!) the Land Were with herself at strife, would take your stand, Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch’s side, And, like Montrose, make Loyalty your pride– Come ye–who, not less zealous, might display Banners at enmity with regal sway, And, like the Pyms and Miltons of that day, Think that […]
It was an April morning: fresh and clear by William Wordsworth
It was an April morning: fresh and clear The Rivulet, delighting in its strength, Ran with a young man’s speed; and yet the voice Of waters which the winter had supplied Was softened down into a vernal tone. The spirit of enjoyment and desire, And hopes and wishes, from all living things Went circling, like […]
It Is No Spirit Who From Heaven Hath Flown by William Wordsworth
IT is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown, And is descending on his embassy; Nor Traveller gone from earth the heavens to espy! ‘Tis Hesperus–there he stands with glittering crown, First admonition that the sun is down! For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by; A few are near him still–and now the […]
It Is a Beauteous Evening by William Wordsworth
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 tranquility; The gentleness of heaven broods o’er the sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder – everlastingly. […]
Is There A Power That Can Sustain And Cheer by William Wordsworth
Is there a power that can sustain and cheer The captive chieftain, by a tyrant’s doom, Forced to descend into his destined tomb– A dungeon dark! where he must waste the year, And lie cut off from all his heart holds dear; What time his injured country is a stage Whereon deliberate Valour and the […]
Inside of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge by William Wordsworth
. Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense, With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned- Albeit labouring for a scanty band Of white-robed Scholars only-this immense And glorious Work of fine intelligence! Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore Of nicely-calculated less or more; So deemed the man who fashioned for the […]
Inscriptions Written with a Slate Pencil upon a Stone by William Wordsworth
Stranger! this hillock of mis-shapen stones Is not a Ruin spared or made by time, Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem’st, the Cairn Of some old British Chief: ’tis nothing more Than the rude embryo of a little Dome Or Pleasure-house, once destined to be built Among the birch-trees of this rocky isle. But, as […]
Indignation Of A High-Minded Spaniard by William Wordsworth
WE can endure that He should waste our lands, Despoil our temples, and by sword and flame Return us to the dust from which we came; Such food a Tyrant’s appetite demands: And we can brook the thought that by his hands Spain may be overpowered, and he possess, For his delight, a solemn wilderness […]
Incident Characteristic Of A Favorite Dog by William Wordsworth
ON his morning rounds the Master Goes to learn how all things fare; Searches pasture after pasture, Sheep and cattle eyes with care; And, for silence or for talk, He hath comrades in his walk; Four dogs, each pair of different breed, Distinguished two for scent, and two for speed. See a hare before him […]
In The Pass Of Killicranky by William Wordsworth
SIX thousand veterans practised in war’s game, Tried men, at Killicranky were arrayed Against an equal host that wore the plaid, Shepherds and herdsmen.–Like a whirlwind came The Highlanders, the slaughter spread like flame; And Garry, thundering down his mountain-road, Was stopped, and could not breathe beneath the load Of the dead bodies.–‘Twas a day […]
In Due Observance Of An Ancient Rite by William Wordsworth
IN due observance of an ancient rite, The rude Biscayans, when their children lie Dead in the sinless time of infancy, Attire the peaceful corse in vestments white; And, in like sign of cloudless triumph bright, They bind the unoffending creature’s brows With happy garlands of the pure white rose: Then do a festal company […]
I Grieved For Buonaparte by William Wordsworth
I GRIEVED for Buonaparte, with a vain And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood Of that Man’s mind–what can it be? what food Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could ‘he’ gain? ‘Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of […]
Hoffer by William Wordsworth
OF mortal parents is the Hero born By whom the undaunted Tyrolese are led? Or is it Tell’s great Spirit, from the dead Returned to animate an age forlorn? He comes like Phoebus through the gates of morn When dreary darkness is discomfited, Yet mark his modest state! upon his head, That simple crest, a […]
Hint From The Mountains For Certain Political Pretenders by William Wordsworth
“WHO but hails the sight with pleasure When the wings of genius rise, Their ability to measure With great enterprise; But in man was ne’er such daring As yon Hawk exhibits, pairing His brave spirit with the war in The stormy skies! “Mark him, how his power he uses, Lays it by, at will resumes! […]
Here Pause: The Poet Claims At Least This Praise by William Wordsworth
HERE pause: the poet claims at least this praise, That virtuous Liberty hath been the scope Of his pure song, which did not shrink from hope In the worst moment of these evil days; From hope, the paramount ‘duty’ that Heaven lays, For its own honour, on man’s suffering heart. Never may from our souls […]
Hail, Zaragoza! If With Unwet eye by William Wordsworth
HAIL, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye We can approach, thy sorrow to behold, Yet is the heart not pitiless nor cold; Such spectacle demands not tear or sigh. These desolate remains are trophies high Of more than martial courage in the breast Of peaceful civic virtue: they attest Thy matchless worth to all posterity. Blood […]
Hail, Twilight, Sovereign Of One Peaceful Hour by William Wordsworth
HAIL Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour! Not dull art Thou as undiscerning Night; But studious only to remove from sight Day’s mutable distinctions.–Ancient Power! Thus did the waters gleam, the mountains lower, To the rude Briton, when, in wolf-skin vest Here roving wild, he laid him down to rest On the bare rock, or […]
Great Men Have Been Among Us by William Wordsworth
GREAT men have been among us; hands that penned And tongues that uttered wisdom–better none: The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend. These moralists could act and comprehend: They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully nation shone In splendour: what strength was, that would […]
Gipsies by William Wordsworth
YET are they here the same unbroken knot Of human Beings, in the self-same spot! Men, women, children, yea the frame Of the whole spectacle the same! Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light, Now deep and red, the colouring of night; That on their Gipsy-faces falls, Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. –Twelve hours, […]
Feelings Of The Tyrolese by William Wordsworth
THE Land we from our fathers had in trust, And to our children will transmit, or die: This is our maxim, this our piety; And God and Nature say that it is just. That which we ‘would’ perform in arms–we must! We read the dictate in the infant’s eye; In the wife’s smile; and in […]
Feelings Of A Noble Biscayan At One Of Those Funerals by William Wordsworth
YET, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foes With firmer soul, yet labour to regain Our ancient freedom; else ’twere worse than vain To gather round the bier these festal shows. A garland fashioned of the pure white rose Becomes not one whose father is a slave: Oh, bear the infant covered to his grave! […]
Feelings of A French Royalist, On The Disinterment Of The Remains Of The Duke D’Enghien by William Wordsworth
DEAR Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould Uprisen–to lodge among ancestral kings; And to inflict shame’s salutary stings On the remorseless hearts of men grown old In a blind worship; men perversely bold Even to this hour,–yet, some shall now forsake Their monstrous Idol if the dead e’er spake, To warn the living; if […]
Extract From The Conclusion Of A Poem Composed In Anticipation Of Leaving School by William Wordsworth
DEAR native regions, I foretell, From what I feel at this farewell, That, wheresoe’er my steps may tend, And whensoe’er my course shall end, If in that hour a single tie Survive of local sympathy, My soul will cast the backward view, The longing look alone on you. Thus, while the Sun sinks down to […]
Expostulation and Reply by William Wordsworth
Why, William, on that old gray stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream your time away? “Where are your books? – that light bequeathed To Beings else forlorn and blind! Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed From dead men to their kind. “You look […]
Even As A Dragon’s Eye That Feels The Stress by William Wordsworth
EVEN as a dragon’s eye that feels the stress Of a bedimming sleep, or as a lamp Suddenly glaring through sepulchral damp, So burns yon Taper ‘mid a black recess Of mountains, silent, dreary, motionless: The lake below reflects it not; the sky, Muffled in clouds, affords no company To mitigate and cheer its loneliness. […]
Emperors And Kings, How Oft Have Temples Rung by William Wordsworth
EMPERORS and Kings, how oft have temples rung With impious thanksgiving, the Almighty’s scorn! How oft above their altars have been hung Trophies that led the good and wise to mourn Triumphant wrong, battle of battle born, And sorrow that to fruitless sorrow clung! Now, from Heaven-sanctioned victory, Peace is sprung; In this firm hour […]
Crusaders by William Wordsworth
FURL we the sails, and pass with tardy oars Through these bright regions, casting many a glance Upon the dream-like issues–the romance Of many-coloured life that Fortune pours Round the Crusaders, till on distant shores Their labours end; or they return to lie, The vow performed, in cross-legged effigy, Devoutly stretched upon their chancel floors. […]
Composed While The Author Was Engaged In Writing A Tract Occasioned By The Convention Of Cintra by William Wordsworth
NOT ‘mid the world’s vain objects that enslave The free-born Soul–that World whose vaunted skill In selfish interest perverts the will, Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave– Not there; but in dark wood and rocky cave, And hollow vale which foaming torrents fill With omnipresent murmur as they rave Down their steep beds, […]
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802 by William Wordsworth
Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; […]
Composed Near Calais, On The Road Leading To Ardres, August 7, 1802 by William Wordsworth
JONES! as from Calais southward you and I Went pacing side by side, this public Way Streamed with the pomp of a too-credulous day, When faith was pledged to new-born Liberty: A homeless sound of joy was in the sky: From hour to hour the antiquated Earth Beat like the heart of Man: songs, garlands, […]