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Four fiery steeds impatient of the reinWhirled us o'er sunless ground beneath a skyAs void of sunshine, when, from that wide plain,Clear tops of far-off mountains we descry,Like a Sierra of cerulean Spain,All light and lustre. Did no heart reply;Yes, there was One; for One, asunder flyThe thousand links of that ethereal chain;And green vales open out, with grove and field,And … [Read more...] about Sonnets – V. – Four Fiery Steeds Impatient Of The Rein, By: William Wordsworth

Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plantOf such weak fibre that the treacherous airOf absence withers what was once so fair?Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilantBound to thy service with unceasing care,The mind's least generous wish a mendicantFor nought but what thy happiness could spare.Speak though this soft warm heart, once … [Read more...] about Sonnets – IV. – Why Art Thou Silent! Is Thy Love A Plant, By: William Wordsworth

When human touch (as monkish books attest)Nor was applied nor could be, Ledbury bellsBroke forth in concert flung adown the dells,And upward, high as Malvern's cloudy crest;Sweet tones, and caught by a noble Lady blestTo rapture! Mabel listened at the sideOf her loved mistress: soon the music died,And Catherine said, "Here I set up my rest."Warned in a dream, the Wanderer long … [Read more...] about Sonnets – III. – St. Catherine Of Ledbury, By: William Wordsworth

While poring Antiquarians search the groundUpturned with curious pains, the Bard, a Seer,Takes fire: The men that have been reappear;Romans for travel girt, for business gowned;And some recline on couches, myrtle-crowned,In festal glee: why not? For fresh and clear,As if its hues were of the passing year,Dawns this time-buried pavement. From that moundHoards may come forth of … [Read more...] about Sonnets – II. – Roman Antiquities Discovered At Bishopstone, Herefordshire, By: William Wordsworth

She wept. Life's purple tide began to flowIn languid streams through every thrilling vein;Dim were my swimming eyes, my pulse beat slow,And my full heart was swell'd to dear delicious pain.Life left my loaded heart, and closing eye;A sigh recall'd the wanderer to my breast;Dear was the pause of life, and dear the sighThat call'd the wanderer home, and home to rest.That tear … [Read more...] about Sonnet: On Seeing Miss Helen Maria Williams Weep At A Tale Of Distress, By: William Wordsworth