A Selection from the Sonnets of William Wordsworth

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Harper & brothers, 1890 - 77 pages

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Page 47 - Two Voices are there ; one is of the Sea, One of the Mountains ; each a mighty Voice : In both from age to age Thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen Music, Liberty...
Page 13 - NUNS fret not at their convent's narrow room; And hermits are contented with their cells; And students with their pensive citadels; Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom, Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells, Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells: In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is...
Page 77 - It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen!
Page 42 - Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. — Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Page 26 - SURPRISED by joy — impatient as the Wind I turned to share the transport — Oh ! with whom But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb, That spot which no vicissitude can find ? Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind — But how could I forget thee ! Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss ? — That thought's return Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, Knowing...
Page 13 - SCORN not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakspeare unlocked his heart; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp. It...
Page 77 - The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea. Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder — everlastingly. Dear Child ! dear Girl ! that walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine. Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year ; And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being...
Page 24 - Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees ; And the first Cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep ! by any stealth : So do not let me...
Page 46 - Was like a lake, or river bright and fair, A span of waters ; yet what power is there ! What mightiness for evil and for good ! Even so doth God protect us if we be Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters roll, Strength to the brave, and power, and deity, Yet in themselves are nothing...
Page 86 - Why art thou silent ? Is thy love a plant Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air Of absence withers what was once so fair ? Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant ? Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant, Bound to thy service with unceasing care — The mind's least generous wish a mendicant For nought but what thy happiness could spare.

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