Select Pieces from the Poems of William WordsworthJ. Burns, 1843 - 233 Seiten |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 1-5 von 15
Seite 9
... feel I must have died with thee . O wind ! that o'er my head art flying The way my friends their course did bend , I should not feel the pain of dying , Could I with thee a message send . 9 Too soon , my friends , ye went away ;
... feel I must have died with thee . O wind ! that o'er my head art flying The way my friends their course did bend , I should not feel the pain of dying , Could I with thee a message send . 9 Too soon , my friends , ye went away ;
Seite 22
... feel at this farewell , That wheresoe'er my step may tend , And whensoe'er my course shall end , If , in that hour , one single tie Survive of local sympathy , My soul will cast the backward view , The longing look , alone on you . Thus ...
... feel at this farewell , That wheresoe'er my step may tend , And whensoe'er my course shall end , If , in that hour , one single tie Survive of local sympathy , My soul will cast the backward view , The longing look , alone on you . Thus ...
Seite 36
... feel a sting From ill we meet , or good we miss , May touches of his memory bring Fond healing , like a mother's kiss . BY THE SIDE OF THE GRAVE SOME YEARS AFTER . LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat ; But benefits , his gift , we ...
... feel a sting From ill we meet , or good we miss , May touches of his memory bring Fond healing , like a mother's kiss . BY THE SIDE OF THE GRAVE SOME YEARS AFTER . LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat ; But benefits , his gift , we ...
Seite 97
... , Now that our morning meal is done , Make haste , your morning task resign ; Come forth and feel the sun . Edward will come with you ; and , pray , Put on with speed your woodland dress ; H And bring no book : for this one day We'll.
... , Now that our morning meal is done , Make haste , your morning task resign ; Come forth and feel the sun . Edward will come with you ; and , pray , Put on with speed your woodland dress ; H And bring no book : for this one day We'll.
Seite 111
... feel the weight of chance - desires : My hopes no more must change their name , I long for a repose that ever is the same . Stern lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we any thing so fair As is the ...
... feel the weight of chance - desires : My hopes no more must change their name , I long for a repose that ever is the same . Stern lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we any thing so fair As is the ...
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
art thou bagpipe behold beneath bird blessed blest blind bower breath bright brother Brougham Castle cheerful child choice or chance churchyard clouds cottage dead dear deep delight door earth earth abide EGREMONT CASTLE Ennerdale eyes fair father fear fields flowers glad gone grave green greenwood tree grove hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour Isabel land Laodamia LEONARD light lived lofty look Luke mind morning mother mountain mourn mournfully murmur never night o'er pain passed peace pleasant pleasure poor PRIEST Rich groves Richard Bateman rills rocks round Ruth seemed SEVEN SISTERS shepherd side sight silent sing sleep solitude song sorrow soul sound spirit stone stood sweet thee There's things thou art thought TINTERN ABBEY trees Twas Twill vale voice wander waters weary ween wild wind woods Yarrow youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 4 - A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Seite 5 - Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?' 'How many? Seven in all,' she said, And wondering looked at me. 'And where are they? I pray you tell.
Seite 43 - Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; 0 listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands : A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings...
Seite 168 - tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure: — But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
Seite 25 - 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...
Seite 164 - And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be, where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service : rather say With warmer love, oh ! with far deeper zeal Of holier love.
Seite 93 - THERE was a roaring in the wind all night ; The rain came heavily and fell in floods ; But now the sun is rising calm and bright ; The birds are singing in the distant woods...
Seite 147 - tis believed by all That many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone.
Seite 159 - Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ,, And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration...
Seite 27 - ... Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed— and gazed— but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that...