Lyrical Ballads: With Pastoral and Other PoemsT.N. Longman and O.Rees, 1802 |
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... tree which stands near the Lake of Esthwaite The Foster - Mother's Tale The Thorn We are Seven Anecdote for Fathers · Page 1 4 7 9 18 24 28 - 35 51 56 C Lines written at a small distance from my House , and sent by my little Boy to the ...
... tree which stands near the Lake of Esthwaite The Foster - Mother's Tale The Thorn We are Seven Anecdote for Fathers · Page 1 4 7 9 18 24 28 - 35 51 56 C Lines written at a small distance from my House , and sent by my little Boy to the ...
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... two ; And of my fifty , yesterday I had but only one : And here it lies upon my arm , Alas ! and I have none ; - To - day I fetched it from the rock ; It is the last of all my flock . " LINES Left upon a seat in a YEW - TREE 23.
... two ; And of my fifty , yesterday I had but only one : And here it lies upon my arm , Alas ! and I have none ; - To - day I fetched it from the rock ; It is the last of all my flock . " LINES Left upon a seat in a YEW - TREE 23.
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... TREE , which stands near the Lake of ESTHWAITE , on a desolate part of the shore , yet commanding a beautiful prospect . -Nay , Traveller ! rest . This lonely Yew - tree stands Far from all human dwelling : what if here No sparkling ...
... TREE , which stands near the Lake of ESTHWAITE , on a desolate part of the shore , yet commanding a beautiful prospect . -Nay , Traveller ! rest . This lonely Yew - tree stands Far from all human dwelling : what if here No sparkling ...
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... ! -Angels rest his soul ! He was a woodman , and could fell and saw With lusty arm . You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel ; Beneath that tree , while yet it was a tree 28 The Foster-Mother's Tale.
... ! -Angels rest his soul ! He was a woodman , and could fell and saw With lusty arm . You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel ; Beneath that tree , while yet it was a tree 28 The Foster-Mother's Tale.
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With Pastoral and Other Poems William Wordsworth. Beneath that tree , while yet it was a tree He found a baby wrapt ... trees . A Friar , who sought for simples in the , wood , A grey - haired man - he loved this little boy , The boy ...
With Pastoral and Other Poems William Wordsworth. Beneath that tree , while yet it was a tree He found a baby wrapt ... trees . A Friar , who sought for simples in the , wood , A grey - haired man - he loved this little boy , The boy ...
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Common terms and phrases
Albatross ancient Mariner Babe Beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds black lips breeze chatter cold composition dead dear door endeavoured excitement fair fear feelings Friend Goody Blake green happy Harry Gill hath hear heard heart high crag Hill of moss hope Idiot Boy Johnny Johnny's Kilve land of mist language limbs Liswyn farm live look'd looks LYRICAL BALLADS Martha Ray metre metrical mind mist moon moonlight mountain mov'd nature never night numbers o'er objects oh misery old Susan pain pass'd passion pleasure Poems Poet Poet's Poetry Pond Pony poor old poor Susan porringer pray produced prose Quoth Reader Ship silent Simon Lee song soul spirit Stephen Hill stood Susan Gale sweet tale tautology tears tell thee There's things Thorn thou thought thro tion truth Twas verse voice wedding-guest wherefore wild wind wood words Young Harry
Popular passages
Page 195 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colors and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 196 - 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 power To chasten and subdue.
Page vii - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen, because, in that condition, the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language...
Page 198 - My dear dear Friend ; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear dear Sister! and this prayer I make Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lend From joy to joy...
Page xxxviii - The remotest discoveries of the Chemist, the Botanist, or Mineralogist will be as proper objects of the Poet's art as any upon which it can be employed if the time should ever come when these things shall be familiar to us and the relations under which they are contemplated by the followers of these respective sciences shall be manifestly and palpably material to us as enjoying and suffering beings.
Page 153 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Page xxxvii - He is the rock of defence for human nature; an upholder and preserver, carrying everywhere with him relationship and love. In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs : in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed; the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time.
Page 194 - In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless day-light ; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye ! Thou wanderer thro...
Page 92 - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music...
Page 192 - These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves Among the woods and copses, nor disturb The wild green landscape. Once again I see These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild ; these pastoral farms, Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!