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The Martial Courage Of A Day Is Vain, By: William Wordsworth

September 14, 2026 by Editors

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The martial courage of a day is vain, An empty noise of death the battle's roar, If vital hope be wanting to restore, Or fortitude be wanting to sustain Armies or kingdoms. We have heard a strain Of triumph, how the labouring Danube bore A weight of hostile corses: drenched with gore Were the wide fields, the hamlets heaped with slain. Yet see (the … [Read more...] about The Martial Courage Of A Day Is Vain, By: William Wordsworth

The Longest Day, By: William Wordsworth

September 14, 2026 by Editors

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Let us quit the leafy arbor, And the torrent murmuring by; For the sun is in his harbor, Weary of the open sky. Evening now unbinds the fetters Fashioned by the glowing light; All that breathe are thankful debtors To the harbinger of night. Yet by some grave thoughts attended Eve renews her calm career; For the day that now is ended, Is … [Read more...] about The Longest Day, By: William Wordsworth

The Leaves That Rustled On This Oak-Crowned Hill, By: William Wordsworth

September 14, 2026 by Editors

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The leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill, And sky that danced among those leaves, are still; Rest smooths the way for sleep; in field and bower Soft shades and dews have shed their blended power On drooping eyelid and the closing flower; Sound is there none at which the faintest heart Might leap, the weakest nerve of superstition start; Save when … [Read more...] about The Leaves That Rustled On This Oak-Crowned Hill, By: William Wordsworth

The Last Of The Flock, By: William Wordsworth

September 14, 2026 by Editors

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I IN distant countries have I been, And yet I have not often seen A healthy man, a man full grown, Weep in the public roads, alone. But such a one, on English ground, And in the broad highway, I met; Along the broad highway he came, His cheeks with tears were wet: Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad; And in his arms a Lamb he had. II He … [Read more...] about The Last Of The Flock, By: William Wordsworth

The Labourer’s Noon-Day Hymn, By: William Wordsworth

September 14, 2026 by Editors

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Up to the throne of God is borne The voice of praise at early morn, And he accepts the punctual hymn Sung as the light of day grows dim. Nor will he turn his ear aside From holy offerings at noontide. Then here reposing let us raise A song of gratitude and praise. What though our burthen be not light, We need not toil from morn to night; The … [Read more...] about The Labourer’s Noon-Day Hymn, By: William Wordsworth

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