Poems of William Wordsworth

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C. S. Francis, 1855 - 340 psl.

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352 psl. - 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 tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen!
131 psl. - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower...
170 psl. - THE HAPPY WARRIOR. 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...
27 psl. - When empty terrors overawe, From vain temptations dost set free, And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot, Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh!
102 psl. - I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head.
104 psl. - Then did the little maid reply, 'Seven boys and girls are we: Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree.
212 psl. - On that best portion of a good man's life, — His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love.
21 psl. - Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells : In truth, the prison unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is : and hence for me, In sundry moods 'twas pastime to be bound Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground...
130 psl. - Nor man nor boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be. Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither; Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
118 psl. - One adequate support For the calamities of mortal life Exists — one only — an assured belief That the procession of our fate, howe'er Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being Of infinite benevolence and power, Whose everlasting purposes embrace All accidents, converting them to good.

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