Poems

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

Amid a fertile region green with woodAnd fresh with rivers, well doth it becomeThe Ducal Owner, in his Palace-homeTo naturalise this tawny Lion brood;Children of Art, that claim strange brotherhood,Couched in their Den, with those that roam at largeOver the burning wilderness, and chargeThe wind with terror while they roar for food.But these are satiate, and a stillness … [Read more...] about Picture Of Daniel In The Lion’s Den At Hamilton Palace, By: William Wordsworth

A TALE What's in a 'Name'?. . . . .Brutus will start a Spirit as soon as Caesar! PROLOGUE There's something in a flying horse,There's something in a huge balloon;But through the clouds I'll never floatUntil I have a little Boat,Shaped like the crescent-moon. And now I 'have' a little Boat,In shape a very crescent-moonFast through the clouds my boat can sail;But if … [Read more...] about Peter Bell – A Tale, By: William Wordsworth

I I am not One who much or oft delightTo season my fireside with personal talk.Of friends, who live within an easy walk,Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight:And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright,Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the stalk,These all wear out of me, like Forms, with chalkPainted on rich men's floors, for one feast-night.Better than such … [Read more...] about Personal Talk, By: William Wordsworth