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Though the torrents from their fountainsRoar down many a craggy steep,Yet they find among the mountainsResting-places calm and deep. Clouds that love through air to hasten,Ere the storm its fury stills,Helmet-like themselves will fastenOn the heads of towering hills. What, if through the frozen centreOf the Alps the Chamois bound,Yet he has a home to enterIn some nook of … [Read more...] about Song Of The Wandering Jew, By: William Wordsworth

Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel!Night has brought the welcome hour,When the weary fingers feelHelp, as if from faery power;Dewy night o'ershades the ground;Turn the swift wheel round and round! Now, beneath the starry sky,Couch the widely-scattered sheep;Ply the pleasant labour, ply!For the spindle, while they sleep,Runs with speed more smooth and fine,Gathering up a … [Read more...] about Song Of The Spinning Wheel, By: William Wordsworth

High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:"From town to town, from tower to tower,The red rose is a gladsome flower.Her thirty years of winter past,The red rose is revived at last;She lifts her head for endless spring,For everlasting blossoming:Both … [Read more...] about Song At The Feast Of Brougham Castle, By: William Wordsworth

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:And, when I crossed the wild,I chanced to see at break of dayThe solitary child. No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;She dwelt on a wide moor,The sweetest thing that ever grewBeside a human door! You yet may spy the fawn at play,The hare upon the green;But the sweet face of Lucy GrayWill never more be seen. "To-night will be a stormy nightYou to … [Read more...] about Solitude, Or Lucy Gray, By: William Wordsworth

Soft as a cloud is yon blue Ridge, the MereSeems firm as solid crystal, breathless, clear,And motionless; and, to the gazer's eye,Deeper than ocean, in the immensityOf its vague mountains and unreal sky!But, from the process in that still retreat,Turn to minuter changes at our feet;Observe how dewy Twilight has withdrawnThe crowd of daisies from the shaven lawn,And has restored … [Read more...] about Soft As A Cloud Is Yon Blue Ridge, By: William Wordsworth