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Away the seven fair Campbells fly, And, over Hill and Hollow, With menace proud
, and insult loud, The youthful Rovers follow. Cried they, " Your Father loves to
roamEnough for him to find The empty House when he comes home ; For us your
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock *, But we will leave it growing. O'er hilly path,
and open Strath, We'll wander Scotland thorough ; But, though so near, we will
not turn Into the Dale of Yarrow. Let Beeves and home-bred Kine partake The ...
But thou, that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of
day Her delicate creation : Meek loveliness is round thee spread, A softness still
and holy ; The grace of forest charms decayed, And pastoral melancholy.
All lovely colours there you see, All colours that were ever seen ; And mossy net-
work too is there, As if by hand of lady fair The work had woven been ; And cups,
the darlings of the eye, So deep is their vermilion dye. Ah me ! what lovely tints ...
I know the secrets of a land Where human foot did never stray ; Fair is the land as
evening skies, And cool, — though in the depth it lies Of burning Africa. Or we'll
into the realm of Faery, Among the lovely shades of things ; The shadowy forms ...
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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.