Unquiet Childhood here by special grace Forgets her nature, opening like a flower That neither feeds nor wastes its vital power In painful struggles. Months each other chase, And nought untunes that Infant's voice; no trace Of fretful temper sullies her pure cheek; Prompt, lively, self-sufficing, yet so meek That one enrapt with gazing on her face (Which … [Read more...] about Infant M-M, By: William Wordsworth
Idle Shepherd-Boys, By: William Wordsworth
The valley rings with mirth and joy; Among the hills the echoes play A never never ending song, To welcome in the May. The magpie chatters with delight; The mountain raven's youngling brood Have left the mother and the nest; And they go rambling east and west In search of their own food; Or through the glittering vapours dart In very wantonness of … [Read more...] about Idle Shepherd-Boys, By: William Wordsworth
The Idiot Boy, By: William Wordsworth
Hunger, and sultry heat, and nipping blastFrom bleak hill-top, and length of march by nightThrough heavy swamp, or over snow-clad height--These hardships ill-sustained, these dangers past,The roving Spanish Bands are reached at last,Charged, and dispersed like foam: but as a flightOf scattered quails by signs do reunite,So these,--and, heard of once again, are chasedWith … [Read more...] about The Idiot Boy, By: William Wordsworth
The Horn Of Egremont Castle, By: William Wordsworth
Hunger, and sultry heat, and nipping blastFrom bleak hill-top, and length of march by nightThrough heavy swamp, or over snow-clad height--These hardships ill-sustained, these dangers past,The roving Spanish Bands are reached at last,Charged, and dispersed like foam: but as a flightOf scattered quails by signs do reunite,So these,--and, heard of once again, are chasedWith … [Read more...] about The Horn Of Egremont Castle, By: William Wordsworth
Highland Broach, By: William Wordsworth
Hunger, and sultry heat, and nipping blastFrom bleak hill-top, and length of march by nightThrough heavy swamp, or over snow-clad height--These hardships ill-sustained, these dangers past,The roving Spanish Bands are reached at last,Charged, and dispersed like foam: but as a flightOf scattered quails by signs do reunite,So these,--and, heard of once again, are chasedWith … [Read more...] about Highland Broach, By: William Wordsworth