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I cannot tell ; I wish I could ; For the true reason no one knows : But if you'd gladly
view the spot, The spot to which she goes ; The Heap that's like an infant's grave,
The Pond — and Thorn, so old and gray ; Pass by her door — 'tis seldom shut ...
And now, too happy for repose or rest, (Never had living man such joyful lot !) Sir
Walter walked all round, north, south, and west, And gazed and gazed upon that
darling spot. And climbing up the hill — (it was at least 218 HART-LEAP WELL.
The Swale flowed under the grey rocks, But he flowed quiet and unseen ; — You
need a strong and stormy gale To bring the noises of the Swale To that green
spot, so calm and green ! And is there no one dwelling here, No hermit with his ...
But, as an oak in breathless air Will stand though to the centre hewn, Or as the
weakest things, if frost Have stiffened them, maintain their post, So he, beneath
the gazing moon : — Meanwhile the pair have reached a spot Where, sheltered
Meanwhile the pair have reached a spot Where, sheltered by a rocky cove, A little
chapel stands alone, With greenest ivy overgrown, And tufted with an ivy grove.
Dying insensibly away From human thoughts and purposes, The building ...
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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.