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Where leafless Oaks towered high above, I sat within an undergrove Of tallest
hollies, tall and green ; A fairer bower was never seen. From year to year the
spacious floor With withered leaves is covered o'er, And all the year the bower is
Never nearer to the goal ; Never — never does the trouble Of the Wanderer leave
my soul. XVII. THE SEVEN SISTERS; OB, THE SOLITUDE OF BINNORIE. Seven
90 SONG FOR THE WANDERING JEW. Song for the Wandering Jew - - 1800.
She prayed, her withered hand uprearing, While Harry held her by the arm — "
God ! who art never out of hearing, O may he never more be warm !" The cold,
cold moon above her head, Thus on her knees did Goody pray, Young Harry
Or gives a thing but small delight that never can be dear? The silver Moon with all
her Vales, and Hills ol mightiest fame, Do they betray us when they're seen ? and
are they but a name ? Or is it rather that Conceit rapacious is and strong, And ...
And see the town where I was born ! Around those happy fields we span In
boyish gambols — I was lost Where I have been, but on this coast I feel I am a
man. Never did fifty things at once Appear so lovely, never, never, — How
tunefully the ...
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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.