The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, 第 4 巻Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green, 1827 |
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... : - With one consent the people rejoice , Filling the church with a lofty voice ! They sing a service which they feel : For ' tis the sun - rise now of zeal , And faith and hope are in their prime , In 8 CANTO I. THE WHITE DOE.
... : - With one consent the people rejoice , Filling the church with a lofty voice ! They sing a service which they feel : For ' tis the sun - rise now of zeal , And faith and hope are in their prime , In 8 CANTO I. THE WHITE DOE.
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William Wordsworth. And faith and hope are in their prime , In great Eliza's golden time . A moment ends the fervent din , And all is hushed , without and within ; For though the priest , more tranquilly , Recites the holy liturgy , The ...
William Wordsworth. And faith and hope are in their prime , In great Eliza's golden time . A moment ends the fervent din , And all is hushed , without and within ; For though the priest , more tranquilly , Recites the holy liturgy , The ...
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... Hope nothing , if I thus may speak To thee a woman , and thence weak ; Hope nothing , I repeat ; for we Are doomed to perish utterly : " Tis meet that thou with me divide The thought while I am by thy side , * See the Old Ballad , " The ...
... Hope nothing , if I thus may speak To thee a woman , and thence weak ; Hope nothing , I repeat ; for we Are doomed to perish utterly : " Tis meet that thou with me divide The thought while I am by thy side , * See the Old Ballad , " The ...
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... hope , a common mind ; And plot , and pant to overwhelm All ancient honour in the realm . Brave Earls ! to whose heroic veins Our noblest blood is given in trust , To you a suffering State complains , And ye must raise her from the dust ...
... hope , a common mind ; And plot , and pant to overwhelm All ancient honour in the realm . Brave Earls ! to whose heroic veins Our noblest blood is given in trust , To you a suffering State complains , And ye must raise her from the dust ...
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... hope is wakened by the sight , He thence may learn , ere fall of night , Which way the tide is doomed to flow . To London were the Chieftains bent ; But what avails the bold intent ? A Royal army is gone forth . To quell the Rising of ...
... hope is wakened by the sight , He thence may learn , ere fall of night , Which way the tide is doomed to flow . To London were the Chieftains bent ; But what avails the bold intent ? A Royal army is gone forth . To quell the Rising of ...
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Banner Barden Fell Barden Tower beautiful behold beneath bless Bolton Bolton Abbey bowers brave breast breath bright calm Canute cheer Child city of Durham Coniston Creature curacy dark dear deep delight doth Duddon earth Emily endeavour fair fear feelings flowers Francis Friend gentle gliding grace grave green hand happy hath hear heard heart Heaven hill holy honour hope human Isle of Walney Lady language live lonely look Lord Loweswater Maid metre mind morning mortal Mother mountain murmur nature Norton o'er passion peace pleasure Poem Poet Poetry prayer Reader River RIVER DUDDON Robert Walker rocks round Rylstone Seathwaite side sigh sight silent Simon rouse sing smooth solitude song Sonnets sorrow soul spirit spread stand stood sweet tears thee things thou thought Tower Trajan trees Ulpha vale voice Wharf whence White Doe wind youth
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350 ページ - Upon the growing Boy, But He beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
213 ページ - 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.
360 ページ - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen, because, in that condition, the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language ; because in that condition of life our elementary feelings coexist in a state of greater simplicity, and, consequently, may be more accurately contemplated, and more forcibly communicated...
352 ページ - 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 realized...
294 ページ - The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control; But in the quietness of thought: Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
350 ページ - See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral...
347 ページ - As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong...
333 ページ - So once it would have been, — 'tis so no more ; I have submitted to a new control : A power is gone, which nothing can restore ; A deep distress hath humanised my Soul.
367 ページ - And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet Morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear And weep the more because I weep in vain.
367 ページ - ... that not only the language of a large portion of every good poem, even of the most elevated character, must necessarily, except with reference to the metre, in no respect differ from that of good prose, but likewise that some of the most interesting parts of the best poems will be found to be strictly the language of prose when prose is well written. The truth of this assertion might be demonstrated by innumerable passages from almost all the poetical writings, even of Milton himself.