The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Том 2W. Paterson, 1882 |
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Стр. 9
... poor legs , to my stone - table Limped on with some vexation . 1819 . 1820 . 1819 . On two poor legs , toward my stone - table Limped on with some vexation . 1827 . 3 1827 . 1819 . 4 1827 . and promptly shall be paid Breath failed me as ...
... poor legs , to my stone - table Limped on with some vexation . 1819 . 1820 . 1819 . On two poor legs , toward my stone - table Limped on with some vexation . 1827 . 3 1827 . 1819 . 4 1827 . and promptly shall be paid Breath failed me as ...
Стр. 10
... poor beast - alas ! in vain ; The staff was raised to loftier height , And the blows fell with heavier weight As Peter struck - and struck again.1 2 1836 . " Hold ! " cried the Squire , " against the rules Of common sense you're surely ...
... poor beast - alas ! in vain ; The staff was raised to loftier height , And the blows fell with heavier weight As Peter struck - and struck again.1 2 1836 . " Hold ! " cried the Squire , " against the rules Of common sense you're surely ...
Стр. 20
... poor Ass staggered with the shock ; And then , as if to take his ease , 3 In quiet uncomplaining mood , Upon the spot where he had stood , Dropped gently down upon his knees ; As gently on his side he fell ; 4 And by the river's brink ...
... poor Ass staggered with the shock ; And then , as if to take his ease , 3 In quiet uncomplaining mood , Upon the spot where he had stood , Dropped gently down upon his knees ; As gently on his side he fell ; 4 And by the river's brink ...
Стр. 21
... poor Ass and lean , Yea wasted to a skeleton ! 1819 . And Peter halts to gather breath , And , while he halts , was clearly shewn , & c . 1827 . · An impious oath confirmed the threat- Whereat from the PETER BELL . 121.
... poor Ass and lean , Yea wasted to a skeleton ! 1819 . And Peter halts to gather breath , And , while he halts , was clearly shewn , & c . 1827 . · An impious oath confirmed the threat- Whereat from the PETER BELL . 121.
Стр. 23
... poor dying brute . " 1 He scans the Ass from limb to limb , And ventures now to uplift his eyes ; More steady looks the moon , and clear , More like themselves the rocks appear And touch more quiet skies . 2 His scorn returns - his hate ...
... poor dying brute . " 1 He scans the Ass from limb to limb , And ventures now to uplift his eyes ; More steady looks the moon , and clear , More like themselves the rocks appear And touch more quiet skies . 2 His scorn returns - his hate ...
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Alfoxden Ambleside Askrigg beautiful beneath bird Bishop of Lincoln BLEAK SEASON bower breath bright brook brother Calais cheerful child church-yard Cockermouth Coleridge Comp composed cottage crag Cuckoo dear delight Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal doth Dove Cottage earth Ennerdale eyes face Father fear Fenwick note fields flowers gentle Ghyll Goslar Grasmere grave green happy hast hath Hawkshead heard heart heaven hills lake Leonard lived look Luke Lyrical Ballads mind morning mountains Neidpath Castle never night o'er passed Peter Bell pleasure poem poor Priest Rob Roy rock round Rydal sate seemed seen Sheep-fold Shepherd side sight sing Skiddaw Sockburn song sonnet sorrow soul spirit spot stanzas stars stone stood stream sweet thee things thou art thought Town-end trees vale valley voice walk wild wind woods Wordsworth written youth
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Стр. 65 - 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.
Стр. 302 - In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible knights of old : We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake, the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
Стр. 68 - He is retired as noontide dew, Or fountain in a noon-day grove : And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
Стр. 346 - Will no one tell me what she sings ? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow 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. 184 - But Nature, in due course of time, once more Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom. "She leaves these objects to a slow decay, That what we are, and have been, may be known ; But at the coming of the milder day These monuments shall all be overgrown.
Стр. 300 - MILTON, thou shouldst be living at this hour ! England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters ; altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness.
Стр. 55 - When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels, Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round!
Стр. 53 - Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought, That givest to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion, not in vain By day or star-light thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul; Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, But with high objects, with enduring things — With life and nature — purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying, by such discipline, Both pain...
Стр. 54 - And not a voice was idle; with the din Smitten, the precipices rang aloud; The leafless trees and every icy crag Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills Into the tumult sent an alien sound Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west The orange sky of evening died away.
Стр. 345 - 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.