Editors

SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH I shiver, Spirit fierce and bold,At thought of what I now behold:As vapours breathed from dungeons cold,Strike pleasure dead,So sadness comes from out the mouldWhere Burns is laid. And have I then thy bones so near,And thou forbidden to appear?As if it were thyself that's hereI shrink with pain;And both my wishes and my fearAlike are … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 II. At The Grave Of Burns, 1803, By: William Wordsworth

The gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plainsMight sometimes covet dissoluble chains;Even for the tenants of the zone that liesBeyond the stars, celestial Paradise,Methinks 'twould heighten joy, to overleapAt will the crystal battlements, and peepInto some other region, though less fair,To see how things are made and managed there.Change for the worse might please, incursion … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 I. Departure From The Vale Of Grasmere, August 1803, By: William Wordsworth

Now we are tired of boisterous joy,Have romped enough, my little Boy!Jane hangs her head upon my breast,And you shall bring your stool and rest;This corner is your own. There! take your seat, and let me seeThat you can listen quietly:And, as I promised, I will tellThat strange adventure which befellA poor blind Highland Boy. A 'Highland' Boy!, why call him so?Because, my … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803, By: William Wordsworth

I To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen,Or depth of labyrinthine glen;Or into trackless forest setWith trees, whose lofty umbrage met;World-wearied Men withdrew of yore;(Penance their trust, and prayer their storeAnd in the wilderness were boundTo such apartments as they found,Or with a new ambition raised;That God might suitably be praised. II High lodged the … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland 1814 I. Suggested By A Beautiful Ruin Upon One Of The Islands Of Loch Lomond, By: William Wordsworth

And is this, Yarrow? 'This' the StreamOf which my fancy cherished,So faithfully, a waking dream?An image that hath perished!O that some Minstrel's harp were near,To utter notes of gladness,And chase this silence from the air,That fills my heart with sadness! Yet why? a silvery current flowsWith uncontrolled meanderings;Nor have these eyes by greener hillsBeen soothed, in all … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland 1814 – IV. Yarrow Visited – September 1814, By: William Wordsworth