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A Pilgrim, when the summer day Had closed upon his weary way, A lodging
begged beneath a castle's roof; But him the haughty Warder spurned ; And from
the gate the Pilgrim turned, To seek such covert as the field Or heath-besprinkled
He turned, and watched with kindred look, A glow-worm, in a dusky nook,
Apparent at his feet. The murmur of a neighbouring stream Induced a soft and
slumberous dream, A pregnant dream within whose shadowy bounds He
recognised the ...
The cold, cold moon above her head, Thus on her knees did Goody pray, Young
Harry heard what she had said : And icy cold he turned away. He went
complaining all the morrow That he was cold and very chill : His face was gloom,
his heart ...
The Knight had ridden down from Wensley mooi With the slow motion of a
summer's cloud ; He turned aside towards a Vassal's door, And " Bring another
horse!" he cried aloud. " Another Horse !" — That shout the Vassal heard And
Once more the Ass, with motion dull, Upon the pivot of his skull Turned round his
long left ear." I'll cure you of these desperate tricks" — And, with deliberate action
slow, His staff high-raising, in the pride Of skill, upon the Ass's hide He dealt 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.