Fame tells of groves, from England far away,Groves that inspire the Nightingale to trillAnd modulate, with subtle reach of skillElsewhere unmatched, her ever-varying lay;Such bold report I venture to gainsay:For I have heard the quire of Richmond hillChanting, with indefatigable bill,Strains that recalled to mind a distant day;When, haply under shade of that same wood,And … [Read more...] about June 1820, By: William Wordsworth
It Was An April Morning: Fresh And Clear, By: William Wordsworth
It was an April morning: fresh and clearThe Rivulet, delighting in its strength,Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voiceOf waters which the winter had suppliedWas softened down into a vernal tone.The spirit of enjoyment and desire,And hopes and wishes, from all living thingsWent circling, like a multitude of sounds.The budding groves seemed eager to urge onThe steps of … [Read more...] about It Was An April Morning: Fresh And Clear, By: William Wordsworth
It Is Not To Be Thought Of, By: William Wordsworth
It is not to be thought of that the FloodOf British freedom, which, to the open seaOf the world's praise, from dark antiquityHath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood,"Roused though it be full often to a moodWhich spurns the check of salutary bands,That this most famous Stream in bogs and sandsShould perish; and to evil and to goodBe lost for ever. In our halls is … [Read more...] about It Is Not To Be Thought Of, By: William Wordsworth
It Is No Spirit Who From Heaven Hath Flown, By: William Wordsworth
It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown,And is descending on his embassy;Nor Traveller gone from earth the heavens to espy!'Tis Hesperus, there he stands with glittering crown,First admonition that the sun is down!For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by;A few are near him still, and now the sky,He hath it to himself 'tis all his own.O most ambitious Star! an inquest … [Read more...] about It Is No Spirit Who From Heaven Hath Flown, By: William Wordsworth
It Is A Beauteous Evening, By: William Wordsworth
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,The holy time is quiet as a nunBreathless with adoration; the broad sunIs sinking down in its tranquility;The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea:Listen! the mighty Being is awake,And doth with his eternal motion makeA sound like thunder, everlastingly.Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,If thou appear untouched by … [Read more...] about It Is A Beauteous Evening, By: William Wordsworth