Wordsworth in His Major Lyrics: The Art and Psychology of Self-representation

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University of Missouri Press, 2001 - 180 pages

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Contents

TheLyricalI
15
TheDramaticsof
47
IntheMindsEyeI
77
4 NN
103
5 NN
130
6 NN
152
WorksCited
165
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Page 91 - So, oft it chances in particular men, That for some vicious mole of nature in them, As, in their birth,— wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin,— By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason...
Page 132 - Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts today Feel the gladness of the May!
Page 72 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
Page 91 - Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens The form of plausive manners ; that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo, Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault : the dram of eale Doth all the noble substance of a doubt To his own scandal.
Page 87 - 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 ; Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods ; The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters ; And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
Page 124 - ... art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his 'humourous stage' With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, That Life brings with her in her equipage; As if his whole vocation Were endless imitation.
Page 149 - I WAS thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile ! Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee : I saw thee every day ; and all the while Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea. So pure the sky, so quiet was the air ! So like, so very like, was day to day ! Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there ; It trembled, but it never passed away.
Page 155 - I love to see the look with which it braves, Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time, The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves. Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone, Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind! Such happiness, wherever it be known, Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.
Page 68 - Is lightened ; that serene and blessed mood In which the affections gently lead us on, Until the breath of this corporeal frame, And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
Page 150 - Ah ! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw; and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream; I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile, Amid a world how different from this ! Beside a sea that could not cease to smile; On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.

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