The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, 2 tomasLongman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green, 1827 |
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7 psl.
... thee , For thou art worthy , Thou unassuming Common - place Of Nature , with that homely face , And yet with something of a grace , Which Love makes for thee ! Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit , and play with similies , Loose types ...
... thee , For thou art worthy , Thou unassuming Common - place Of Nature , with that homely face , And yet with something of a grace , Which Love makes for thee ! Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit , and play with similies , Loose types ...
8 psl.
... thee glittering from afar ; And then thou art a pretty Star Not quite so fair as many are In heaven above thee ! ; Yet like a star , with glittering crest , Self - poised in air thou seem'st to rest ; - May peace come never to his nest ...
... thee glittering from afar ; And then thou art a pretty Star Not quite so fair as many are In heaven above thee ! ; Yet like a star , with glittering crest , Self - poised in air thou seem'st to rest ; - May peace come never to his nest ...
9 psl.
... thee , and to that cleave fast , Sweet silent Creature ! That breath'st with me in sun and air , Do thou , as thou art wont , repair My heart with gladness , and a share Of thy meek nature ! XV . TO THE SAME FLOWER . BRIGHT flower , B 5 ...
... thee , and to that cleave fast , Sweet silent Creature ! That breath'st with me in sun and air , Do thou , as thou art wont , repair My heart with gladness , and a share Of thy meek nature ! XV . TO THE SAME FLOWER . BRIGHT flower , B 5 ...
10 psl.
... thee Some concord with humanity , Given to no other Flower I see The forest thorough ! And wherefore ? Man is soon deprest ; A thoughtless Thing ! who , once unblest , Does little on his memory rest , Or on his reason ; But Thou would ...
... thee Some concord with humanity , Given to no other Flower I see The forest thorough ! And wherefore ? Man is soon deprest ; A thoughtless Thing ! who , once unblest , Does little on his memory rest , Or on his reason ; But Thou would ...
11 psl.
... thee ringing , Lift me , guide me till I find That spot which seems so to thy mind ! Alas ! my journey , rugged and uneven , Through prickly moors or dusty ways must wind ; But hearing thee , or others of thy kind , As full of gladness ...
... thee ringing , Lift me , guide me till I find That spot which seems so to thy mind ! Alas ! my journey , rugged and uneven , Through prickly moors or dusty ways must wind ; But hearing thee , or others of thy kind , As full of gladness ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth– With a Memoir : Seven ..., 2 tomas William Wordsworth Visos knygos peržiūra - 1878 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
admiration appear Babe beauty behold beneath Bird BLACK COMB blood bower breath bright BROUGHAM CASTLE calm cheer Child clouds Countess of Pembroke dark dear deep delight doth earth fair faith Fancy fear feel flowers genius gentle gleam glow-worm Goody Blake GRASMERE green grove happy Harry Gill hath head heard heart Heaven Helvellyn hill hour human Laodamia live lofty look Lord Clifford Martha Ray mind moon mortal mountain murmur nature never night o'er oh misery Ossian pain Paradise Lost pensive Peter Bell pleasure Poem Poet poetry poor praise Rill river rocks round seems shade Shakspeare sight silent sing song Sonnet soul sound spirit stars stood stream Swale sweet thee thine thing Thorn thou thoughts Threlkeld trees Twas vale voice wandering ween wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wing woods Youth
Populiarios ištraukos
60 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 way-lay.
286 psl. - IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration...
64 psl. - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. 'The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
356 psl. - And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places : thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations ; and thou shalt be called The repairer of the breach, The restorer of paths to dwell in.
289 psl. - 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.
182 psl. - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, 80 That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
104 psl. - The wind, the tempest roaring high, The tumult of a tropic sky Might well be dangerous food For him, a youth to whom was given So much of earth — so much of heaven, And such impetuous blood.
47 psl. - Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways, In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen.
268 psl. - Sleepless! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear...
305 psl. - SCORN not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakspeare unlocked his heart; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp. It...