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Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing ; The dor-hawk, solitary bird,
Round the dim crags on heavy pinions wheeling, Buzzes incessantly, a tiresome
tune ; That constant voice is all that can be heard In silence deeper far than that
And, while they coast the silent lake, Their inspiration I partake ; Share their
empyreal spirits — yea, With their enraptured vision, see — O fancy, what a
jubilee I What shifting pictures — clad in gleams Of colour bright 30 THE
While thus before my eyes he gleams, A Brother of the Leaves he seems ; When
in a moment forth he teems His little song in gushes : As if it pleased him to
disdain The voiceless Form he chose to feign, While he was dancing with the
train Of ...
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, With many recognitions dim
and faint, And somewhat of a sad perplexity, The picture of the mind revives
again : While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with ...
Nor, perchance, If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from
thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the
banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A
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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.