Selections1897 - English literature - 294 pages |
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... Lake of Esthwaite , on a desolate part of the shore com- manding a beautiful prospect My heart leaps up when I behold . 4 9 To a Butterfly The Sparrow's Nest 10 II Alice Fell ; or , Poverty Lucy Gray ; or , Solitude We are Seven . 13 16 ...
... Lake of Esthwaite , on a desolate part of the shore com- manding a beautiful prospect My heart leaps up when I behold . 4 9 To a Butterfly The Sparrow's Nest 10 II Alice Fell ; or , Poverty Lucy Gray ; or , Solitude We are Seven . 13 16 ...
Page v
... Lake of Esthwaite , on a desolate part of the shore com- manding a beautiful prospect My heart leaps up when I behold To a Butterfly The Sparrow's Nest Alice Fell ; or , Poverty . Lucy Gray ; or , Solitude We are Seven . • The Pet Lamb ...
... Lake of Esthwaite , on a desolate part of the shore com- manding a beautiful prospect My heart leaps up when I behold To a Butterfly The Sparrow's Nest Alice Fell ; or , Poverty . Lucy Gray ; or , Solitude We are Seven . • The Pet Lamb ...
Page xxii
... as far as the Italian lakes ; indeed , but for circumstances , Wordsworth would have been the wanderer of his own Excursion . Travel , contemplative travel , was his passion . In 1793 he published several of his de- xxii INTRODUCTION.
... as far as the Italian lakes ; indeed , but for circumstances , Wordsworth would have been the wanderer of his own Excursion . Travel , contemplative travel , was his passion . In 1793 he published several of his de- xxii INTRODUCTION.
Page xxvii
... Lake country . Leaving Goslar in February 1799 , Wordsworth began , with great delight , The Prelude an autobiography in blank verse . The fourteen books were finished , but , of course , not published , by 1805. In the autumn of 1799 ...
... Lake country . Leaving Goslar in February 1799 , Wordsworth began , with great delight , The Prelude an autobiography in blank verse . The fourteen books were finished , but , of course , not published , by 1805. In the autumn of 1799 ...
Page xxix
... Lake Country and " Opinions on Certain Questions . " In 1813 he settled at Rydal Mount ( where he lived till his death in 1850 ) ; and in 1814 he became stamp collector for Westmoreland , a post of more emolu- ment than labour , but one ...
... Lake Country and " Opinions on Certain Questions . " In 1813 he settled at Rydal Mount ( where he lived till his death in 1850 ) ; and in 1814 he became stamp collector for Westmoreland , a post of more emolu- ment than labour , but one ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALFRED PARSONS beauty behold beneath bird blank verse blessed bliss bower breath bright BROUGHAM CASTLE Busk calm cheerful child clouds Coleridge cottage creature dear delight dost doth dwell earth fair fear feel flock flowers FURNESS ABBEY gentle grass grave green happy Hart-Leap HARVARD COLLEGE hath hear heard heart heaven HENRY LILLIE PIERCE hills hour lake lamb Laodamia light living lonely look Lucy Luke Lyrical Ballads maid melancholy mighty mind moon moral morning mountains murmur nature never night o'er Ode to Duty pain Peter Bell pleasure poems poet poetry quiet rock round RYDAL MOUNT Scott seemed shade shepherd sight silent sing Sir Walter sleep song sonnet sorrow soul spake spirit star stone stream summer sweet thee things thou art thought Tintern Abbey trees Twill vale verse voice wandered waters wild wind wood Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 215 - MILTON ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Page 146 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and. beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash...
Page 283 - Hence, in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Page 13 - Seven are we ; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And in the churchyard cottage I Dwell near them with my mother.
Page 145 - All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, ' And mountains ; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half create *, And what perceive...
Page 280 - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage...
Page 270 - Ah ! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw ; and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream...
Page 276 - There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, 'The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Page 284 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind...
Page 85 - Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways, In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen.