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... a child might know, In an unhappy home . " Dost thou presume my course to
block ? Off, off! or, puny Thing ! I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock To which thy
fibres cling." The Flood was tyrannous and strong ; The patient Briar suffered long
The Thing had better been asleep, Whatever thing it were, Or Breeze, or Bird, or
Dog, or Sheep, That first did plant you there. For you and your green twigs decoy
The little witless Shepherd-boy To come and slumber in your bower ; And, trust ...
With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Sweet Daisy ! oft I
talk to thee, For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming Common-place Of Nature, with
that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for ...
As a huge Stone is sometimes seen to lie Couched on the bald top of an
eminence ; Wonder to all who do the same espy, By what means it could thither
come, and whence ; So that it seems a thing endued with sense : Like a Sea-
... something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting
suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of
man : A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all
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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.