The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, 2 tomasLittle, Brown and Company, 1854 |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 43
26 psl.
... rest , a ruddy choir , Were seated round their blazing fire , This Tale the Shepherd told . II . " I saw a crag , a lofty stone As ever tempest beat ! Out of its head an Oak had grown , A Broom out of its feet . The time was March , a ...
... rest , a ruddy choir , Were seated round their blazing fire , This Tale the Shepherd told . II . " I saw a crag , a lofty stone As ever tempest beat ! Out of its head an Oak had grown , A Broom out of its feet . The time was March , a ...
29 psl.
... bower the breeze That instant brought two stripling bees To rest or murmur there . XI . " One night , my Children ! from the north There came a furious blast ; At break of day I ventured forth , And near THE OAK AND THE BROOM . 29.
... bower the breeze That instant brought two stripling bees To rest or murmur there . XI . " One night , my Children ! from the north There came a furious blast ; At break of day I ventured forth , And near THE OAK AND THE BROOM . 29.
34 psl.
... Then , cheerful Flower ! my spirits play With kindred gladness : And when , at dusk , by dews opprest Thou sink'st , the image of thy rest Hath often eased my pensive breast Of careful sadness . 34 POEMS OF THE FANCY .
... Then , cheerful Flower ! my spirits play With kindred gladness : And when , at dusk , by dews opprest Thou sink'st , the image of thy rest Hath often eased my pensive breast Of careful sadness . 34 POEMS OF THE FANCY .
37 psl.
... rest ; May peace come never to his nest , Who shall reprove thee ! - Bright Flower ! for by that name at last , When all my reveries are past , I call thee , and to that cleave fast , Sweet , silent creature ! That breath'st with me in ...
... rest ; May peace come never to his nest , Who shall reprove thee ! - Bright Flower ! for by that name at last , When all my reveries are past , I call thee , and to that cleave fast , Sweet , silent creature ! That breath'st with me in ...
38 psl.
... rest . In joy of voice and pinion ! Thou , Linnet ! in thy green array , Presiding spirit here to - day , Dost lead the revels of the May ; And this is thy dominion . While birds , and butterflies , and flowers , Make all one band of ...
... rest . In joy of voice and pinion ! Thou , Linnet ! in thy green array , Presiding spirit here to - day , Dost lead the revels of the May ; And this is thy dominion . While birds , and butterflies , and flowers , Make all one band of ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
beauty behold beneath Benjamin Binnorie bird BLACK COMB blest bloom bower breast breath breeze bright BROUGHAM CASTLE brow calm cheer clouds dancing dark dear deep delight doth dwell earth fair faith Fancy fear flowers gazed gentle gleam glory Glowworms grace Grasmere green grove happy hath head heard heart heaven Helvellyn hill hope hour Laodamia light living lonely look Lord Clifford LOVE-LIES-BLEEDING Martha Ray mind moon morning mortal mountains murmur Muse Naiad Nature Nature's nest never night o'er peace pensive Peter Bell pleasure rapture rills river Swale rock round RYDAL MOUNT self-taught art shade shining side sight silent sing Skiddaw sleep smile song soul sound spirit spot Spring stars stir stone strain stream sweet tears thee thine things Thorn thou art thoughts trees vale voice wandering ween wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings woods Youth
Populiarios ištraukos
126 psl. - 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 waylay.
191 psl. - With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, : • :. • . , Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
191 psl. - 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...
187 psl. - Is lightened : — that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on, — • Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
130 psl. - A SLUMBER did my spirit seal ; I had no human fears : She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force ; She neither hears nor sees ; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.
128 psl. - 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.
341 psl. - This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
336 psl. - Thou art the seed, That quickens only where Thou say'st it may : Unless Thou show to us thine own true way No man can find it ; Father! Thou must lead.
122 psl. - Not loth to furnish weapons for the Bands Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched To Scotland's Heaths ; or Those that crossed the Sea And drew their sounding bows at Azincour, Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers. Of vast circumference and gloom profound This solitary Tree ! — a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay ; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed.
320 psl. - NUNS fret not at their Convent's narrow room ; And Hermits are contented with their Cells ; And Students with their pensive Citadels : Maids at the Wheel, the Weaver at his Loom, Sit blithe and happy; Bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Pea.k of Furness Fells, Will murmur by the hour in Foxglove bells : In truth, the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is...