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There doth she ken the awful form Of Raven-crag — black as a storm —
Glimmering through the twilight pale ; And Gimmer-crag *, his tall twin-brother,
Each peering forth to meet the other : — And, rambling on through St. John's Vale
, Along ...
Does, then, a deep and earnest thought the blissful mind employ Of him who
gazes, or has gazed ? a grave and steady joy, That doth reject all shew of pride,
admits no outward sign, Because not of this noisy world, but silent and divine !
Nor doth our human sense Ask, for its pleasure, screen or canopy More ample
than that time-dismantled Oak Spreads o'er this tuft of heath : which now, attired
In the whole fulness of its bloom, affords As beautiful a couch as e'er on earth
... birth ; The grass is bright with rain-drops ; — on the moors The Hare is running
races in her mirth ; And with her feet she from the plashy earth Raises a mist ;
which, glittering in the sun, Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
There's neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep, Will wet his lips within that Cup
of stone ; And oftentimes, when all are fast asleep, This water doth send forth a
dolorous groan. Some say that here a murder has been done, And blood cries
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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.