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Glide gently, thus for ever glide,O Thames! that other bards may seeAs lovely visions by thy sideAs now, fair river! come to me.O glide, fair stream! for ever so,Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,Till all our minds for ever flowAs thy deep waters now are flowing. Vain thought! Yet be as now thou art,That in thy waters may be seenThe image of a poet's heart,How bright, how … [Read more...] about Remembrance Of Collins, By: William Wordsworth

Glide gently, thus for ever glide,O Thames! that other bards may seeAs lovely visions by thy sideAs now, fair river! come to me.O glide, fair stream! for ever so,Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,Till all our minds for ever flowAs thy deep waters now are flowing. Vain thought! Yet be as now thou art,That in thy waters may be seenThe image of a poet's heart,How bright, how … [Read more...] about Remembrance Of, By: William Wordsworth

The imperial Stature, the colossal stride,Are yet before me; yet do I beholdThe broad full visage, chest of amplest mould,The vestments 'broidered with barbaric pride:And lo! a poniard, at the Monarch's side,Hangs ready to be grasped in sympathyWith the keen threatenings of that fulgent eye,Below the white-rimmed bonnet, far-descried,Who trembles now at thy capricious mood?'Mid … [Read more...] about Recollection Of The Portrait Of King Henry Eighth, Trinity Lodge, Cambridge, By: William Wordsworth

Pure element of waters! wheresoe'erThou dost forsake thy subterranean haunts,Green herbs, bright flowers, and berry-bearing plants,Rise into life and in thy train appear:And, through the sunny portion of the year,Swift insects shine, thy hovering pursuivants:And, if thy bounty fail, the forest pants;And hart and hind and hunter with his spear,Languish and droop together. Nor … [Read more...] about Pure Element Of Waters!, By: William Wordsworth

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