Editors

Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old,Your patriot sons, to stem invasive war,Intrenched your brows; ye gloried in each scar:Now, for your shame, a Power, the Thirst of Gold,That rules o'er Britain like a baneful star,Wills that your peace, your beauty, shall be sold,And clear way made for her triumphal carThrough the beloved retreats your arms enfold!Heard Ye that … [Read more...] about Proud Were Ye, Mountains, When, In Times Of Old, By: William Wordsworth

Forth rushed from Envy sprung and Self-conceit,A Power misnamed the spirit of reform,And through the astonished Island swept in storm,Threatening to lay all orders at her feetThat crossed her way. Now stoops she to entreatLicense to hide at intervals her headWhere she may work, safe, undisquieted,In a close Box, covert for Justice meet.St, George of England! keep a watchful … [Read more...] about Protest Against The Ballot, By: William Wordsworth

Presentiments! they judge not rightWho deem that ye from open lightRetire in fear of shame;All 'heaven-born' Instincts shun the touchOf vulgar sense, and, being such,Such privilege ye claim. The tear whose source I could not guess,The deep sigh that seemed fatherless,Were mine in early days;And now, unforced by time to partWith fancy, I obey my heart,And venture on your … [Read more...] about Presentiments, By: William Wordsworth

An Orpheus! an Orpheus! yes, Faith may grow bold,And take to herself all the wonders of old;Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the sameIn the street that from Oxford hath borrowed its name. His station is there; and he works on the crowd,He sways them with harmony merry and loud;He fills with his power all their hearts to the brim,Was aught ever heard like his fiddle … [Read more...] about Power Of Music, By: William Wordsworth

Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,And humbler growths as moved with one desirePut on, to welcome spring, their best attire,Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gayWith his red stalks upon this sunny day!And, as his tufts of leaves he spreads, contentWith a hard bed and scanty nourishment,Mixed with the green, some shine … [Read more...] about Poor Robin, By: William Wordsworth