Memoirs of William Wordsworth, 2 tomas

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Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, 1851
 

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205 psl. - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise. In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
182 psl. - He paused, as if revolving in his soul Some weighty matter, then, with fervent voice And an impassioned majesty, exclaimed — " O for the coming of that glorious time When, prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth And best protection, this imperial Realm, While she exacts allegiance, shall admit An obligation, on her part, to teach Them who are born to serve her and obey ; Binding herself by statute to secure For all the children whom her soil maintains The rudiments of letters, and inform The mind...
56 psl. - Action is transitory — a step, a blow, The motion of a muscle — this way or that — 'Tis done ; and in the after-vacancy We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed : Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And has the nature of infinity.
272 psl. - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
58 psl. - It was a grief,— Grief call it not, 'twas anything but that,— A conflict of sensations without name, Of which he only, who may love the sight Of a village steeple, as I do, can judge, When, in the congregation bending all To their great Father, prayers were offered up, Or praises for our country's victories ; And, 'mid the simple worshippers, perchance I only, like an uninvited guest Whom no one owned, sate silent, shall I add, Fed on the day of vengeance yet to come.
96 psl. - The River Duddon, A Series of Sonnets: Vaudracour and Julia; and Other Poems. To which is annexed, A Topographical Description of the Country of the Lakes, in the North of England.
93 psl. - For now the Poet cannot die Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry : " Proclaim the faults he would not show : Break lock and seal : betray the trust : Keep nothing sacred : 't is but just The many-headed beast should know.
76 psl. - This," said she, leading him forward, "is my master's library where he keeps his books, but his study is out of doors.' ' After a long absence from home it has more than once happened that some one of my cottage neighbours has said — "Well, there he is; we are glad to hear him booing about again.
236 psl. - At noon on Thursday we left Abbotsford, and on the morning of that day, Sir Walter and I had a serious conversation, tete-d-tete, when he spoke with gratitude of the happy life which, upon the whole, he had led. He had written in my daughter's album, before he came into the breakfast-room that morning, a few stanzas addressed to her; and while putting the book into her hand, in his own study, standing by his desk, he said to her in my presence, " I should not have done anything of this kind, but...
2 psl. - IF thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven, Then, to the measure of that heaven-born light, Shine, Poet ! in thy place, and be content : — The stars pre-eminent in magnitude, And they that from the zenith dart their beams, (Visible though they be to half the earth, Though half a sphere be conscious of their brightness) Are yet of no diviner origin, No purer essence, than the one that burns, Like an untended watch-fire on the ridge...

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