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When, smitten by the morning ray, I see thee rise, alert and gay, Then, cheerful
Flower ! my spirits play With kindred gladness : And when, at dusk, by dews
opprest Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest Hath often eased my pensive breast Of
Thus pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever
shall find ; Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind, Moves all nature to
gladness and mirth. The Showers of the Spring Rouze the Birds, and they sing ; If
Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell In the impenetrable cell Of the silent heart which
Nature Furnishes to every Creature j Whatsoe'er we feel and know Too sedate for
outward show, Such a light of gladness breaks, Pretty Kitten ! from thy freaks, ...
O that some Minstrel's harp were near, To utter notes of gladness, And chase this
silence from the air, That fills my heart with sadness ! Yet why ? — a silvery
current flows With uncontrolled meanderings ; Nor have these eyes by greener
... in gladness ; But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness. Now,
whether it were by peculiar grace, A leading from above, a something given, Yet
it befel, that, in this lonely place, When I with these untoward thoughts had striven
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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.