Select Pieces from the Poems of William WordsworthJ. Burns, 1843 - 233 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 30
Page 6
... graves are green , they may be seen , " The little maid replied , " Twelve steps or more from my mother's door , And they are side by side . My ... grave we play'd , My brother John and I. And when the ground was white with snow , And.
... graves are green , they may be seen , " The little maid replied , " Twelve steps or more from my mother's door , And they are side by side . My ... grave we play'd , My brother John and I. And when the ground was white with snow , And.
Page 36
... GRAVE SOME YEARS AFTER . LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat ; But benefits , his gift , we trace Expressed in every eye we meet Round this dear vale , his native place . To stately hall and cottage rude Flowed from his life what ...
... GRAVE SOME YEARS AFTER . LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat ; But benefits , his gift , we trace Expressed in every eye we meet Round this dear vale , his native place . To stately hall and cottage rude Flowed from his life what ...
Page 39
... from which the coffin is taken up ; and each person who attends the funeral ordinarily takes a sprig of this box - wood , and throws it into the grave of the deceased . The Sailor's Mother . ONE morning ( raw it was. THE CHILDLESS FATHER.
... from which the coffin is taken up ; and each person who attends the funeral ordinarily takes a sprig of this box - wood , and throws it into the grave of the deceased . The Sailor's Mother . ONE morning ( raw it was. THE CHILDLESS FATHER.
Page 45
... to the churchyard come , stopped short Beside my daughter's grave . Nine summers had she scarcely seen , The pride of all the vale ; And then she sang - she would have been A very nightingale . Six feet in earth my Emma lay ; And yet.
... to the churchyard come , stopped short Beside my daughter's grave . Nine summers had she scarcely seen , The pride of all the vale ; And then she sang - she would have been A very nightingale . Six feet in earth my Emma lay ; And yet.
Page 46
... grave , I met , Beside the churchyard - yew , A blooming girl , whose hair was wet With points of morning dew . A basket on her head she bare ; Her brow was smooth and white : To see a child so very fair , It was a pure delight ! No ...
... grave , I met , Beside the churchyard - yew , A blooming girl , whose hair was wet With points of morning dew . A basket on her head she bare ; Her brow was smooth and white : To see a child so very fair , It was a pure delight ! No ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
art thou bagpipe behold beneath bird blessed blest blind bower breath bright brother Brougham Castle cheerful child choice or chance churchyard clouds cottage dead dear deep delight door earth earth abide EGREMONT CASTLE Ennerdale eyes fair father fear fields flowers glad gone grave green greenwood tree grove hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour Isabel land Laodamia LEONARD light lived lofty look Luke mind morning mother mountain mourn mournfully murmur never night o'er pain passed peace pleasant pleasure poor PRIEST Rich groves Richard Bateman rills rocks round Ruth seemed SEVEN SISTERS shepherd side sight silent sing sleep solitude song sorrow soul sound spirit stone stood sweet thee There's things thou art thought TINTERN ABBEY trees Twas Twill vale voice wander waters weary ween wild wind woods Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 4 - A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? 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. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Page 5 - Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?' 'How many? Seven in all,' she said, And wondering looked at me. 'And where are they? I pray you tell.
Page 43 - Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; 0 listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands 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. Will no one tell me what she sings...
Page 168 - tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure: — But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
Page 25 - 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...
Page 164 - And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be, where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service : rather say With warmer love, oh ! with far deeper zeal Of holier love.
Page 93 - THERE was a roaring in the wind all night ; The rain came heavily and fell in floods ; But now the sun is rising calm and bright ; The birds are singing in the distant woods...
Page 147 - tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone.
Page 159 - Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ,, And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration...
Page 27 - ... Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed— and gazed— but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that...