Beauties of English Landscape |
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Page 16
... live - long day , As though she lived on song . This very spot , Just where the old - man's - beard all wildly trails Rude arbours o'er the road , and stops the way ; And where the child its blue - bell flowers hath got , Laughing and ...
... live - long day , As though she lived on song . This very spot , Just where the old - man's - beard all wildly trails Rude arbours o'er the road , and stops the way ; And where the child its blue - bell flowers hath got , Laughing and ...
Page 32
... Live to such end , is what both old and young In this our valley , all of us have wished , And what , for my part , I have often prayed : But Leonard— . Poor Leonard ! when we parted , He took me by the hand and said to me , If ever the ...
... Live to such end , is what both old and young In this our valley , all of us have wished , And what , for my part , I have often prayed : But Leonard— . Poor Leonard ! when we parted , He took me by the hand and said to me , If ever the ...
Page 60
... lives or dies ; And full - grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn ; Hedge - crickets sing ; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden croft , And gathering swallows twitter in the skies . KEATS . HHARRAL SE My heart ...
... lives or dies ; And full - grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn ; Hedge - crickets sing ; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden croft , And gathering swallows twitter in the skies . KEATS . HHARRAL SE My heart ...
Page 78
... , My first luve and last ; May thy joys be to come-- Mine live in the past . In sorrow and sadness This hour fa's on me ; But light , as thy luve , may It fleet over thee ! MOTHERWELL . 78 But sidelang we look'd Ilk ither in turn.
... , My first luve and last ; May thy joys be to come-- Mine live in the past . In sorrow and sadness This hour fa's on me ; But light , as thy luve , may It fleet over thee ! MOTHERWELL . 78 But sidelang we look'd Ilk ither in turn.
Page 122
RUTH . BENEATH her father's roof , alone She seemed to live ; her thoughts her own ; Herself her own delight : Pleased with herself , nor sad , nor gay , She passed her time ; and in this way Grew up to woman's height . There came a ...
RUTH . BENEATH her father's roof , alone She seemed to live ; her thoughts her own ; Herself her own delight : Pleased with herself , nor sad , nor gay , She passed her time ; and in this way Grew up to woman's height . There came a ...
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Common terms and phrases
Astòr beam beauty behold beneath birds blessed bloom blue bosom boughs bower breathe bright brook BROTHERS calm Canst thou forget cliffs clouds Coloured cottage DALZIEL BROTHERS dark dear deep delight doth dream earth EDMUND EVANS ELIZA COOK fair fear flowers gentle gilt edges gleam glide gloom Grasmere grave green greenwood tree grove hand happy harebells hath heard heart heaven Helpmate HENRY KIRKE WHITE hill hour hung lassie light live lofty lonely look Maire bhan Astor merry morning mossy mountain murmur night o'er pleasure rills rocks round rove scene shade shepherd shines shore side sight silence sing skies sleep smile snow soft solitude song sorrow soul spread Spring steep stone stood stream summer tears thine thou art thoughts trees vale village voice wandering waters waves wild winds winter woods WORDSWORTH Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 14 - LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Page 50 - This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
Page 236 - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings ; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised...
Page 200 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy ; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Page 56 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Page 56 - Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun ; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Page 30 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place: The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day...
Page 232 - My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard, Thus fares it still in our decay; And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what Age takes away Than what it leaves behind.
Page 222 - 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.
Page 122 - NUNS fret not at their Convent's narrow room ; And Hermits are contented with their Cells ; And Students with their pensive Citadels : Maids at the Wheel, the Weaver at his Loom, Sit blithe and happy; Bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Pea.k of Furness Fells, Will murmur by the hour in Foxglove bells : In truth, the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is...