How art thou named? In search of what strange land,From what huge height, descending? Can such forceOf waters issue from a British source,Or hath not Pindus fed thee, where the bandOf Patriots scoop their freedom out, with handDesperate as thine? Or come the incessant shocksFrom that young Stream, that smites the throbbing rocksOf Viamala? There I seem to stand,As in life's … [Read more...] about To The Torrent At The Devil’s Bridge, North Wales, 1824, By: William Wordsworth
To The Supreme Being From The Italian Of Michael Angelo, By: William Wordsworth
The prayers I make will then be sweet indeedIf Thou the spiritgive by which I pray:My unassisted heart is barren clay,That of its native self can nothing feed:Of good and pious worksthou art the seed,That quickens only where thou say'st it may.Unless Thou shew to us thine own true wayNo man can find it:Father! Thou must lead.Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughtsinto my mindBy … [Read more...] about To The Supreme Being From The Italian Of Michael Angelo, By: William Wordsworth
To The Spade Of A Friend (An Agriculturist), By: William Wordsworth
Spade! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his lands,And shaped these pleasant walks by Emont's side,Thou art a tool of honour in my hands;I press thee, through the yielding soil, with pride. Rare master has it been thy lot to know;Long hast Thou served a man to reason true;Whose life combines the best of high and low,The labouring many and the resting few; Health, meekness, … [Read more...] about To The Spade Of A Friend (An Agriculturist), By: William Wordsworth
To The Small Celandine, By: William Wordsworth
Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,Let them live upon their praises;Long as there's a sun that sets,Primroses will have their glory;Long as there are violets,They will have a place in story:There's a flower that shall be mine,'Tis the little Celandine. Eyes of some men travel farFor the finding of a star;Up and down the heavens they go,Men that keep a mighty rout!I'm as … [Read more...] about To The Small Celandine, By: William Wordsworth
To The Same Flower (Daisy), By: William Wordsworth
Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere,Bold in maternal Nature's care,And all the long year through the heirOf joy and sorrow.Methinks that there abides in theeSome concord with humanity,Given to no other flower I seeThe forest thorough! Is it that Man is soon deprest?A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest,Does little on his memory rest,Or on his reason,And Thou would'st … [Read more...] about To The Same Flower (Daisy), By: William Wordsworth