Editors

From the Pier's head, musing, and with increaseOf wonder, I have watched this sea-side Town,Under the white cliff's battlemented crown,Hushed to a depth of more than Sabbath peace:The streets and quays are thronged, but why disownTheir natural utterance: whence this strange releaseFrom social noise, silence elsewhere unknown?A Spirit whispered, "Let all wonder cease;Ocean's … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour On The Continent, 1820 – XXXVI. – At Dover, By: William Wordsworth

Where be the noisy followers of the gameWhich faction breeds; the turmoil where? that passedThrough Europe, echoing from the newsman's blast,And filled our hearts with grief for England's shame.Peace greets us; rambling on without an aimWe mark majestic herds of cattle, freeTo ruminate, couched on the grassy lea;And hear far-off the mellow horn proclaimThe Season's harmless … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour On The Continent, 1820 – XXXV. – After Landing – The Valley Of Dover – Nov. 1820, By: William Wordsworth

Why cast ye back upon the Gallic shore,Ye furious waves! a patriotic SonOf England, who in hope her coast had won,His project crowned, his pleasant travel o'er?Well, let him pace this noted beach once more,That gave the Roman his triumphal shells;That saw the Corsican his cap and bellsHaughtily shake, a dreaming Conqueror!Enough: my Country's cliffs I can behold,And proudly … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour On The Continent, 1820 – XXXIV. – On Being Stranded Near The Harbour Of Boulogne, By: William Wordsworth

Lo! in the burning west, the craggy napeOf a proud Ararat! and, thereupon,The Ark, her melancholy voyage done!Yon rampant cloud mimics a lion's shape;There, combats a huge crocodile agapeA golden spear to swallow! and that brownAnd massy grove, so near yon blazing town,Stirs and recedes, destruction to escape!Yet all is harmless, as the Elysian shadesWhere Spirits dwell in … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour On The Continent, 1820 – XXXIII. – Sky-Prospect – From The Plain Of France, By: William Wordsworth

Lulled by the sound of pastoral bells,Rude Nature's Pilgrims did we go,From the dread summit of the QueenOf mountains, through a deep ravine,Where, in her holy chapel, dwells"Our Lady of the Snow." The sky was blue, the air was mild;Free were the streams and green the bowers;As if, to rough assaults unknown,The genial spot had 'ever' shownA countenance that as sweetly … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour On The Continent, 1820 – XXXII. – Elegiac Stanzas, By: William Wordsworth