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Fly also, Muse ! and from the dell Mount to the ridge of Nathdale Fell ; Thence,
look thou forth o'er wood and lawn Hoar with the frost-like dews of dawn ; Across
yon meadowy bottom look, Where close fogs hide their parent brook ; And see, ...
Some say, if to the Pond you go, And fix on it a steady view, The shadow of a
babe you trace, A baby and a baby's face, And that it looks at you ; Whene'er you
look on it, 'tis plain The baby looks at you again. And some had sworn an oath
And then upon his side he fell And by the river's brink did lie ; And, as he lay like
one that mourned, The patient beast on Peter turned 'Twas but one mild,
reproachful look, A look more tender His shining hazel eye. PART I. PETER BELL
'Twas but one mild, reproachful look, A look more tender than severe ; And
straight in sorrow, not in dread, He turned the eye-ball in his head Towards the
river deep and clear. Upon the beast the sapling rings, — Heaved his lank sides,
A throbbing pulse the Gazer hath — Puzzled he was, and now is daunted ; He
looks, he cannot choose but look ; Like one intent upon a book — A book that is
enchanted. Ah, well-a-day for Peter Bell ! — He will be turned to iron soon, Meet ...
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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.