Poetry Catalog

I hate that Andrew Jones; he'll breedHis children up to waste and pillage.I wish the press-gang or the drumWith its tantara sound would come,And sweep him from the village! I said not this, because he lovesThrough the long day to swear and tipple;But for the poor dear sake of oneTo whom a foul deed he had done,A friendless man, a travelling cripple! For this poor crawling … [Read more...] about Andrew Jones, By: William Wordsworth

And is it among rude untutored Dales,There, and there only, that the heart is true?And, rising to repel or to subdue,Is it by rocks and woods that man prevails?Ah no! though Nature's dread protection fails,There is a bulwark in the soul. This knewIberian Burghers when the sword they drewIn Zaragoza, naked to the galesOf fiercely-breathing war. The truth was feltBy Palafox, and … [Read more...] about And Is It Among Rude Untutored Dales, By: William Wordsworth

Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to roveThrough bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove;Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roarThat stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore;Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads,To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads;Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds,Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland … [Read more...] about An Evening Walk – Addressed To A Young Lady, By: William Wordsworth

Addressed To A Young Lady Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to roveThrough bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove;Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roarThat stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore;Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads,To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads;Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds,Her rocky … [Read more...] about An Evening, By: William Wordsworth