Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Том 2Macmillan Company, 1897 - Всего страниц: 547 |
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appeared Arrochar ascended banks beautiful boat breakfast bridge Bruges building Cairndow Callander Castle Cathedral cattle chapel cheerful church clouds Clovenford colour corn cottages crags crossed cultivated Dalmally delightful descended distance door eminence exceedingly eyes fields flowers foot gardens Glen Coe Grasmere green grey ground head Highland hills hollow horse Inverary Inveroran Jedburgh Kilchurn Castle lake land Loch Achray Loch Awe Loch Etive Loch Lomond Loch Lubnaig Loch Voil Lomond looked melancholy miles morning mountains narrow o'clock opposite passed Patterdale pleasant pleasure precipice pretty rain reached river road rocks rocky ruin sate scattered scene Scotland sea-loch seemed seen shore side sight spire spot stands steep stone stream summits sunshine told torrents tower town travellers trees Tyndrum vale valley village walk walls wild William wind woman wood woody
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Стр. 119 - Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending; — I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
Стр. 118 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Стр. 68 - The immeasurable height Of woods decaying, never to be decayed, The stationary blasts of waterfalls, And in the narrow rent at every turn Winds thwarting winds, bewildered and forlorn, The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side As if a voice were in them, the sick sight And giddy prospect of the raving stream...
Стр. 13 - I be loth to stir? I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, Continued long as life shall last. Nor am I...
Стр. 119 - For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Стр. 12 - And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays ; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts, that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech : A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life ! So have I, not unmoved in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kind Thus beating up against the wind.
Стр. 119 - Of Travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
Стр. 131 - Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow ! "] FROM Stirling Castle we had seen The mazy Forth unravelled ; Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay, And with the Tweed had travelled ; And when we came to Clovenford, Then said my "winsome marrow" " Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside, And see the Braes of Yarrow.