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admiration affections Alps Ambleside ancient appearance Bassenthwaite Lake beauty Blowick Borrowdale Buttermere character clouds Coleorton Coleridge colour composition cottages dear Sir George degree delight epitaph especially expression fancy feelings genius Grasmere Hawkshead heart Helvellyn hill human imagination instance interesting island Kendal Keswick kind Kirkby Lonsdale labour Lady Beaumont Lake language less letter living look Loughrigg Fell Loughrigg Tarn manner metre miles mind moun mountains native Nature objects observed passed passion Patterdale Penrith persons pleased pleasure poem Poet poetic poetry Pooley Bridge present produced prose Reader reason regret road rocks Rydal scarcely scenes seen sense Shakspeare side Skiddaw sonnet speak spirit stone stream sublimity taste things thought tion traveller trees truth Ullswater Ulverston Vale valley verse whole William Wordsworth Windermere winds wish woods words Wordsworth writing
Page 81 - 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 co-exist in a state of greater simplicity, and, consequently, may be more accurately contemplated and more forcibly communicated...
Page 138 - As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie Couched on the bald top of an eminence ; Wonder to all who do the same espy, By what means it could thither come, and whence; So that it seems a thing endued with sense : Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself...
Page 160 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Page 82 - Poems to which any value can be attached were never produced on any variety of subjects but by a man who, being possessed of more than usual organic sensibility, had also thought long and deeply.
Page 7 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Page 147 - I, long before the blissful hour arrives, Would chant, in lonely peace, the spousal verse Of this great consummation — and, by words Which speak of nothing more than what we are, Would I arouse the sensual from their sleep Of Death, and win the vacant and the vain To noble raptures...
Page 136 - As when far off at sea a fleet descried Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring Their spicy drugs ; they, on the trading flood, Through the wide Ethiopian to the cape, Ply stemming nightly toward the pole : so seemed Far off the flying fiend.
Page 85 - 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.
Page 243 - Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain torrents ; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received Into the bosom of the steady lake.
Page 41 - Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day.