It was an April morning: fresh and clear by William Wordsworth
It was an April morning: fresh and clear The Rivulet, delighting in its strength, Ran with a young man’s speed; and yet the voice Of waters which the winter had supplied Was softened down into a vernal tone. The spirit of enjoyment and desire, And hopes and wishes, from all living things Went circling, like […]
It Is No Spirit Who From Heaven Hath Flown by William Wordsworth
IT is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown, And is descending on his embassy; Nor Traveller gone from earth the heavens to espy! ‘Tis Hesperus–there he stands with glittering crown, First admonition that the sun is down! For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by; A few are near him still–and now the […]
It Is a Beauteous Evening by William Wordsworth
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquility; The gentleness of heaven broods o’er the sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder – everlastingly. […]
Is There A Power That Can Sustain And Cheer by William Wordsworth
Is there a power that can sustain and cheer The captive chieftain, by a tyrant’s doom, Forced to descend into his destined tomb– A dungeon dark! where he must waste the year, And lie cut off from all his heart holds dear; What time his injured country is a stage Whereon deliberate Valour and the […]
Invocation To The Earth, February 1816 by William Wordsworth
I “REST, rest, perturbed Earth! O rest, thou doleful Mother of Mankind!” A Spirit sang in tones more plaintive than the wind: “From regions where no evil thing has birth I come–thy stains to wash away, Thy cherished fetters to unbind, And open thy sad eyes upon a milder day. The Heavens are thronged with […]
Inside of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge by William Wordsworth
. Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense, With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned- Albeit labouring for a scanty band Of white-robed Scholars only-this immense And glorious Work of fine intelligence! Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore Of nicely-calculated less or more; So deemed the man who fashioned for the […]
Inscriptions Written with a Slate Pencil upon a Stone by William Wordsworth
Stranger! this hillock of mis-shapen stones Is not a Ruin spared or made by time, Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem’st, the Cairn Of some old British Chief: ’tis nothing more Than the rude embryo of a little Dome Or Pleasure-house, once destined to be built Among the birch-trees of this rocky isle. But, as […]
Inscriptions In The Ground Of Coleorton, The Seat Of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., Leicestershire by William Wordsworth
THE embowering rose, the acacia, and the pine, Will not unwillingly their place resign; If but the Cedar thrive that near them stands, Planted by Beaumont’s and by ‘s hands. One wooed the silent Art with studious pains: These groves have heard the Other’s pensive strains; Devoted thus, their spirits did unite By interchange of […]
Inscriptions For A Seat In The Groves Of Coleorton by William Wordsworth
BENEATH yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound, Rugged and high, of Charnwood’s forest ground Stand yet, but, Stranger! hidden from thy view, The ivied Ruins of forlorn GRACE DIEU; Erst a religious House, which day and night With hymns resounded, and the chanted rite: And when those rites had ceased, the Spot gave birth To […]
Influence of Natural Objects by William Wordsworth
In Calling Forth and Strengthening the Imagination in Boyhood and Early Youth Wisdom and Spirit of the Universe! Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought! And giv’st 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 […]
Indignation Of A High-Minded Spaniard by William Wordsworth
WE can endure that He should waste our lands, Despoil our temples, and by sword and flame Return us to the dust from which we came; Such food a Tyrant’s appetite demands: And we can brook the thought that by his hands Spain may be overpowered, and he possess, For his delight, a solemn wilderness […]
Incident Characteristic Of A Favorite Dog by William Wordsworth
ON his morning rounds the Master Goes to learn how all things fare; Searches pasture after pasture, Sheep and cattle eyes with care; And, for silence or for talk, He hath comrades in his walk; Four dogs, each pair of different breed, Distinguished two for scent, and two for speed. See a hare before him […]
In The Pass Of Killicranky by William Wordsworth
SIX thousand veterans practised in war’s game, Tried men, at Killicranky were arrayed Against an equal host that wore the plaid, Shepherds and herdsmen.–Like a whirlwind came The Highlanders, the slaughter spread like flame; And Garry, thundering down his mountain-road, Was stopped, and could not breathe beneath the load Of the dead bodies.–‘Twas a day […]
In Due Observance Of An Ancient Rite by William Wordsworth
IN due observance of an ancient rite, The rude Biscayans, when their children lie Dead in the sinless time of infancy, Attire the peaceful corse in vestments white; And, in like sign of cloudless triumph bright, They bind the unoffending creature’s brows With happy garlands of the pure white rose: Then do a festal company […]
I Travelled among Unknown Men by William Wordsworth
I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee. ‘Tis past, that melancholy dream! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel The joy […]
I Know an Aged Man Constrained to Dwell by William Wordsworth
I know an aged Man constrained to dwell In a large house of public charity, Where he abides, as in a Prisoner’s cell, With numbers near, alas! no company. When he could creep about, at will, though poor And forced to live on alms, this old Man fed A Redbreast, one that to his cottage […]
I Grieved For Buonaparte by William Wordsworth
I GRIEVED for Buonaparte, with a vain And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood Of that Man’s mind–what can it be? what food Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could ‘he’ gain? ‘Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of […]
How Sweet It Is, When Mother Fancy Rocks by William Wordsworth
HOW sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood! An old place, full of many a lovely brood, Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks; And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks, Like a bold Girl, who plays her agile pranks At Wakes and Fairs with wandering […]
Hoffer by William Wordsworth
OF mortal parents is the Hero born By whom the undaunted Tyrolese are led? Or is it Tell’s great Spirit, from the dead Returned to animate an age forlorn? He comes like Phoebus through the gates of morn When dreary darkness is discomfited, Yet mark his modest state! upon his head, That simple crest, a […]
Hint From The Mountains For Certain Political Pretenders by William Wordsworth
“WHO but hails the sight with pleasure When the wings of genius rise, Their ability to measure With great enterprise; But in man was ne’er such daring As yon Hawk exhibits, pairing His brave spirit with the war in The stormy skies! “Mark him, how his power he uses, Lays it by, at will resumes! […]
Here Pause: The Poet Claims At Least This Praise by William Wordsworth
HERE pause: the poet claims at least this praise, That virtuous Liberty hath been the scope Of his pure song, which did not shrink from hope In the worst moment of these evil days; From hope, the paramount ‘duty’ that Heaven lays, For its own honour, on man’s suffering heart. Never may from our souls […]
Her Eyes Are Wild by William Wordsworth
I HER eyes are wild, her head is bare, The sun has burnt her coal-black hair; Her eyebrows have a rusty stain, And she came far from over the main. She has a baby on her arm, Or else she were alone: And underneath the hay-stack warm, And on the greenwood stone, She talked and […]
Hart-Leap Well by William Wordsworth
THE Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor With the slow motion of a summer’s cloud, And now, as he approached a vassal’s door, “Bring forth another horse!” he cried aloud. “Another horse!”–That shout the vassal heard And saddled his best Steed, a comely grey; Sir Walter mounted him; he was the third Which he […]
Hail, Zaragoza! If With Unwet eye by William Wordsworth
HAIL, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye We can approach, thy sorrow to behold, Yet is the heart not pitiless nor cold; Such spectacle demands not tear or sigh. These desolate remains are trophies high Of more than martial courage in the breast Of peaceful civic virtue: they attest Thy matchless worth to all posterity. Blood […]
Hail, Twilight, Sovereign Of One Peaceful Hour by William Wordsworth
HAIL Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour! Not dull art Thou as undiscerning Night; But studious only to remove from sight Day’s mutable distinctions.–Ancient Power! Thus did the waters gleam, the mountains lower, To the rude Briton, when, in wolf-skin vest Here roving wild, he laid him down to rest On the bare rock, or […]
Guilt And Sorrow, Or, Incidents Upon Salisbury Plain by William Wordsworth
I A TRAVELLER on the skirt of Sarum’s Plain Pursued his vagrant way, with feet half bare; Stooping his gait, but not as if to gain Help from the staff he bore; for mien and air Were hardy, though his cheek seemed worn with care Both of the time to come, and time long fled: […]
Great Men Have Been Among Us by William Wordsworth
GREAT men have been among us; hands that penned And tongues that uttered wisdom–better none: The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend. These moralists could act and comprehend: They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully nation shone In splendour: what strength was, that would […]
Goody Blake And Harry Gill by William Wordsworth
A True Story OH! what’s the matter? what’s the matter? What is’t that ails young Harry Gill? That evermore his teeth they chatter, Chatter, chatter, chatter still! Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, Good duffle grey, and flannel fine; He has a blanket on his back, And coats enough to smother nine. In March, December, […]
Gipsies by William Wordsworth
YET are they here the same unbroken knot Of human Beings, in the self-same spot! Men, women, children, yea the frame Of the whole spectacle the same! Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light, Now deep and red, the colouring of night; That on their Gipsy-faces falls, Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. –Twelve hours, […]
George and Sarah Green by William Wordsworth
WHO weeps for strangers? Many wept For George and Sarah Green; Wept for that pair’s unhappy fate, Whose grave may here be seen. By night, upon these stormy fells, Did wife and husband roam; Six little ones at home had left, And could not find that home. For ‘any’ dwelling-place of man As vainly did […]
From The Italian Of Michael Angelo by William Wordsworth
YES! hope may with my strong desire keep pace, And I be undeluded, unbetrayed; For if of our affections none finds grace In sight of Heaven, then, wherefore hath God made The world which we inhabit? Better plea Love cannot have, than that in loving thee Glory to that eternal Peace is paid, Who such […]
From The Dark Chambers Of Dejection Freed by William Wordsworth
FROM the dark chambers of dejection freed, Spurning the unprofitable yoke of care, Rise, GILLIES, rise; the gales of youth shall bear Thy genius forward like a winged steed. Though bold Bellerophon (so Jove decreed In wrath) fell headlong from the fields of air, Yet a rich guerdon waits on minds that dare, If aught […]
From The Cuckoo And The Nightingale by William Wordsworth
I The God of Love-“ah, benedicite!” How mighty and how great a Lord is he! For he of low hearts can make high, of high He can make low, and unto death bring nigh; And hard-hearts he can make them kind and free. II Within a little time, as hath been found, He can make […]
Foresight by William Wordsworth
That is work of waste and ruin- Do as Charles and I are doing! Strawberry-blossoms, one and all, We must spare them-here are many: Look at it-the flower is small, Small and low, though fair as any: Do not touch it! summers two I am older, Anne, than you. Pull the primrose, sister Anne! Pull […]
Fidelity by William Wordsworth
A BARKING sound the Shepherd hears, A cry as of a dog or fox; He halts–and searches with his eyes Among the scattered rocks: And now at distance can discern A stirring in a brake of fern; And instantly a dog is seen, Glancing through that covert green. The Dog is not of mountain breed; […]
Feelings Of The Tyrolese by William Wordsworth
THE Land we from our fathers had in trust, And to our children will transmit, or die: This is our maxim, this our piety; And God and Nature say that it is just. That which we ‘would’ perform in arms–we must! We read the dictate in the infant’s eye; In the wife’s smile; and in […]
Feelings Of A Noble Biscayan At One Of Those Funerals by William Wordsworth
YET, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foes With firmer soul, yet labour to regain Our ancient freedom; else ’twere worse than vain To gather round the bier these festal shows. A garland fashioned of the pure white rose Becomes not one whose father is a slave: Oh, bear the infant covered to his grave! […]
Feelings of A French Royalist, On The Disinterment Of The Remains Of The Duke D’Enghien by William Wordsworth
DEAR Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould Uprisen–to lodge among ancestral kings; And to inflict shame’s salutary stings On the remorseless hearts of men grown old In a blind worship; men perversely bold Even to this hour,–yet, some shall now forsake Their monstrous Idol if the dead e’er spake, To warn the living; if […]
Extract From The Conclusion Of A Poem Composed In Anticipation Of Leaving School by William Wordsworth
DEAR native regions, I foretell, From what I feel at this farewell, That, wheresoe’er my steps may tend, And whensoe’er my course shall end, If in that hour a single tie Survive of local sympathy, My soul will cast the backward view, The longing look alone on you. Thus, while the Sun sinks down to […]
Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg by William Wordsworth
. When first, descending from the moorlands, I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide Along a bare and open valley, The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide. When last along its banks I wandered, Through groves that had begun to shed Their golden leaves upon the pathways, My steps the Border-minstrel led. The mighty Minstrel breathes […]