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A Garland of seven Lilies wrought ! Seven Sisters that together dwell ; But he,
bold Knight as ever fought, Their Father, took of them no thought, He loved the
Wars so well. Sing, mournfully, oh ! mournfully, Fresh blows the wind, a western
Sing, mournfully, oh ! mournfully, The Solitude of Binnorie. Beside a Grotto of
their own, With boughs above them closing, The Seven are laid, and in the shade
They lie like Fawns reposing. But now, upstarting with affright At noise of Man
Sing, mournfully, oh ! mournfully, The Solitude of Binnorie. Some close behind,
some side by side, Like clouds in stormy weather, They run, and cry, " Nay let us
die, And let us die together." A Lake was near ; the shore was steep ; There never
Seven little Islands, green and bare, Have risen from out the deep : The Fishers
say, those Sisters fair By Faeries are all buried there, And there together sleep.
Sing, mournfully, oh ! mournfully, The Solitude of Binnorie. XVIII. THE PILGRIM'S
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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.