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... foot had been ; They ran, and with a desperate leap Together plunged into the
deep, Nor ever more were seen. Sing, mournfully, oh ! mournfully, Stream that
flows out of the Lake, As through The Solitude of Binnorie. THE SEVEN SISTERS
The murmur of a neighbouring stream Induced a soft and slumberous dream, A
pregnant dream within whose shadowy bounds He recognised the earth-born
Star, And That whose radiance gleamed from far ; And (strange to witness !) from
Cambrian Hills To the south-west, a multitudinous show ; And, in a line of eye-
sight linked with these, The hoary Peaks of Scotland that give birth To Tiviot's
Stream, to Annan, Tweed, and Clyde; — Crowding the quarter whence the sun
Rejoiced is Brough, right glad I deem Beside her little humble Stream ; And she
that keepeth watch and ward Her statelier Eden's course to guard ; They both are
happy at this hour, Though each is but a lonely Tower : — But here is perfect joy ...
Nor, perchance, If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from
thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the
banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A
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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.