A small cascade fresh swoln with snows Thus threatened a poor Briar - rose ,
That , all bespattered with his foam , And dancing high , and dancing low , Was
living , as a child might know , In an unhappy home . . Dost thou presume my
Old Goody Blake was old and poor ; Ill fed she was , and thinly clad ; And any
man who passed her door Might see how poor a hut she had . All day she spun
in her poor dwelling : And then her three hours ' work at night Alas ! ' twas hardly
By the same fire to boil their pottage , Two poor old Dames , as I have known ,
Will often live in one small cottage ; But she , poor Woman ! housed alone . ' Twas
well enough when summer came , The long , warm , lightsome summer - day ...
THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN . At the corner of Wood - street , when day -
light appears , Hangs a Thrush that sings loud , it has sung for three years : Poor
Susan has passed by the spot , and has heard In the silence of morning the song
The Ass looks on - - and to his work Is Peter quietly resigned ; He touches here - -
he touches there And now among the dead man ' s hair His sapling Peter has
entwined . , He pulls - and looks — and pulls again ; And he whom the poor Ass ...
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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.