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If to a rock from rains he fly, Or, some bright day of April sky, Imprisoned by hot
sunshine lie Near the green holly, And wearily at length should fare ; He needs
but look about, and there Thou art ! — a Friend at hand, to scare His melancholy.
How Wallace fought for Scotland, left the name Of Wallace to be found, like a wild
flower, All over his dear Country ; left the deeds Of Wallace, like a family of ghosts
, To people the steep rocks and river banks Her natural sanctuaries, with a ...
Beneath the clear blue sky he saw A little field of meadow ground ; But field or
meadow name it not ; Call it of earth a small green plot, With rocks encompassed
round. The Swale flowed under the grey rocks, But he flowed quiet and unseen ...
This outcry, on the heart of Peter, Seems like a note of joy to strike, — Joy at the
heart of Peter knocks ; — But in the echo of the rocks Was something Peter did
not like. Whether to cheer his coward breast, Or that he could not break the chain,
Among the rocks and winding crags — Among the mountains far away — Once
more the Ass did lengthen out More ruefully an endless shout, The long dry see-
saw of his horrible bray ! What is there now in Peter's heart ? Or whence 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.