Selections from WordsworthJ.F. Fletcher, 1885 - Всего страниц: 282 |
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Стр. 22
... may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild . O'er rough and smooth she trips along And never looks behind ; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind . ALICE FELL ; Or , Poverty . THE post - 22 LUCY GRAY .
... may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild . O'er rough and smooth she trips along And never looks behind ; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind . ALICE FELL ; Or , Poverty . THE post - 22 LUCY GRAY .
Стр. 27
... often knit , My kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit— I sit and sing to them . " And often after sunset , sir , When it is light and fair , I take my little porringer , And eat my supper 27 WE ARE SEVEN .
... often knit , My kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit— I sit and sing to them . " And often after sunset , sir , When it is light and fair , I take my little porringer , And eat my supper 27 WE ARE SEVEN .
Стр. 32
... place I , unobserved , could see the workings of her face : If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring , Thus , thought I , to her lamb that little maid might sing : " What ails thee , young one ? what ? 32 The Pet Lamb,
... place I , unobserved , could see the workings of her face : If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring , Thus , thought I , to her lamb that little maid might sing : " What ails thee , young one ? what ? 32 The Pet Lamb,
Стр. 70
... sing Full many a sad and doleful thing : Then , lovely baby , do not fear ! I pray thee have no fear of me , But , safe as in a cradle here , My lovely baby ! thou shalt be ; To thee I know too much I owe ; I cannot work thee any woe ...
... sing Full many a sad and doleful thing : Then , lovely baby , do not fear ! I pray thee have no fear of me , But , safe as in a cradle here , My lovely baby ! thou shalt be ; To thee I know too much I owe ; I cannot work thee any woe ...
Стр. 72
... sing As merry as the birds in spring . " Thy father cares not for my breast , ' Tis thine , sweet baby , there to rest ; ' Tis all thine own ! —and if its hue Be changed , that was so fair to view , ' Tis fair enough for thee , my dove ...
... sing As merry as the birds in spring . " Thy father cares not for my breast , ' Tis thine , sweet baby , there to rest ; ' Tis all thine own ! —and if its hue Be changed , that was so fair to view , ' Tis fair enough for thee , my dove ...
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Alfoxden art thou babe beauty behold beneath birds blessed bower breath bright CALAIS Charles Lamb cheerful child churchyard clouds Cockermouth Coleridge cottage dead dear delight door doth dream dwell earth Edinburgh Review Ennerdale fair father fear feel flowers glad gone Grasmere grave green happy hath Hawkshead hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human Kilve lake lamb Laodamia LEONARD lived Loch Katrine lofty look Lyrical Ballads MATTHEW Arnold mighty mind morning mother mountain nature never night o'er passed peace pleasure poet poor praise PRIEST quiet rocks round RYLSTONE Samuel Taylor Coleridge seemed shade shepherd side sight silent sing Skiddaw sleep song sorrow soul spake spirit stone stood sweet thee things thither thou art thought trees Twas Twill vale voice wander waters ween wild wind woods WORDSWORTH Yarrow youth
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Стр. 197 - The outward shows of sky and earth, Of hill and valley, he has viewed; And impulses of deeper birth Have come to him in solitude. In common things that round us lie Some random truths he can impart, — The harvest of a quiet eye That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
Стр. 7 - Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May...
Стр. 237 - 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!
Стр. 201 - tis a dull and endless strife : Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music ! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it. And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings ! He, too, is no mean preacher :^ Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.
Стр. 186 - If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart — How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 0 sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee!
Стр. 117 - But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved; Nor uniformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane...
Стр. 238 - Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face: Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through thee, Are fresh and strong.
Стр. 1 - THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream. The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Стр. 201 - The sun, above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow. Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.
Стр. 187 - Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth ; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half create, And what perceive; well pleased to recognize, In nature and the language of the sense, The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being.