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VIII. THE OAK AND THE BROOM. A PASTORAL. His simple truths did Andrew
glean Beside the babbling rills ; A careful student he had been Among the woods
and hills. One winter's night, when through the Trees The wind was roaring, on
A Garland of seven Lilies wrought ! Seven Sisters that together dwell ; But he,
bold Knight as ever fought, Their Father, took of them no thought, He loved the
Wars so well. Sing, mournfully, oh ! mournfully, Fresh blows the wind, a western
Fresh blows the wind, a western wind, And from the shores of Erin, Across the
wave, a Rover brave To Binnorie is steering : Right onward to the Scottish strand
The gallant ship is borne ; The Warriors leap upon the land, And hark ! the
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 ...
"Twas mist and rain, and storm and rain, No screen, no fence could I discover,
And then the wind ! in faith, it was A wind full ten times over. I looked around, I
thought I saw A jutting crag, — and off I ran, Head-foremost, through the driving
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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.