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the wind is in the tree, But they are silent ; — still they roll along Immeasurably
distant ; — and the vault, Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds Still
deepens its unfathomable depth. At length the Vision closes ; and the mind, Not ...
V. YEW-TREES. THERE is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day
stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore, Not loth to
furnish weapons for the Bands Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched To
A little while I stood, Breathing with such suppression of the heart As joy delights
in ; and, with wise restraint Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed The banquet, —
or beneath the trees I sate Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played ; A ...
THE HAUNTED TREE. TO . Those silver clouds collected round the sun His mid-
day warmth abate not, seeming less To overshade than multiply his beams By
soft reflection — grateful to the sky, To rocks, fields, woods. Nor doth our human ...
The noon-tide hour : — though truly some there are Whose footsteps
superstitiously avoid This venerable Tree ; for, when the wind Blows keenly, it
sends forth a creaking sound (Above the general roar of woods and crags)
Distinctly heard ...
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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.