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Can aught on earth impede delight, Still mounting to a higher height ; And higher
still — a greedy flight ! Can any low-born care pursue her, Can any mortal clog
come to her ? No notion have they — not a thought, That is from joyless regions ...
1 But now my own delights I make, My thirst at every rill can slake, And gladly
Nature's love partake Of thee, sweet Daisy ! ... Whole summer fields are thine by
right ; And Autumn, melancholy Wight ] Doth in thy crimson head delight When
The Showers of the Spring Rouze the Birds, and they sing ; If the Wind do but stir
for his proper delight, Each Leaf, that and this, his neighbour will kiss ; Each
Wave, one and t'other, speeds after his brother ; They are happy, for that is their
William Wordsworth. Ancient Castle, Woods, and Mountains Hear the challenge
with delight. Hubert ! though the blast be blown He is helpless and alone : Thou
hast a dungeon, speak the word ! And there he may be lodged, and thou be Lord.
The moving accident is not my trade : To freeze the blood I have no ready arts : '
Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
As I from Hawes to Richmond did repair, It chanced that I saw standing in a dell ...
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the kitten of the filling leaves bp[y willam words worth
My favorite is "Solitary Reaper". When I first read it, I fell in love with the poem. It's like Wordsworth wrote it for me only.
I always feel understood and totally embraced everytime I read this poem and walk away with a full heart.