When Love was born of heavenly line,What dire intrigues disturbed Cythera's joy!Till Venus cried, "A mother's heart is mine;None but myself shall nurse my boy," But, infant as he was, the childIn that divine embrace enchanted lay;And, by the beauty of the vase beguiled,Forgot the beverage--and pined away. "And must my offspring languish in my sight?"(Alive to all a … [Read more...] about The Birth Of Love, By: William Wordsworth
The Avon, By: William Wordsworth
Avon, a precious, an immortal name!Yet is it one that other rivulets bearLike this unheard-of, and their channels wearLike this contented, though unknown to Fame:For great and sacred is the modest claimOf Streams to Nature's love, where'er they flow;And ne'er did Genius slight them, as they go,Tree, flower, and green herb, feeding without blame.But Praise can waste her voice on … [Read more...] about The Avon, By: William Wordsworth
The Armenian Lady’s Love, By: William Wordsworth
I You have heard "a Spanish LadyHow she wooed an English man;"Hear now of a fair Armenian,Daughter of the proud Soldan;How she loved a Christian slave, and told her painBy word, look, deed, with hope that he might love again. II "Pluck that rose, it moves my liking,"Said she, lifting up her veil;"Pluck it for me, gentle gardener,Ere it wither and grow pale.""Princess … [Read more...] about The Armenian Lady’s Love, By: William Wordsworth
The Affliction Of Margaret, By: William Wordsworth
I Where art thou, my beloved Son,Where art thou, worse to me than dead?Oh find me, prosperous or undone!Or, if the grave be now thy bed,Why am I ignorant of the sameThat I may rest; and neither blameNor sorrow may attend thy name? II Seven years, alas! to have receivedNo tidings of an only child;To have despaired, have hoped, believed,And been for evermore … [Read more...] about The Affliction Of Margaret, By: William Wordsworth
Surprised By Joy, By: William Wordsworth
Surprised by joy, impatient as the WindI turned to share the transport, Oh! with whomBut Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,That spot which no vicissitude can find?Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind,But how could I forget thee? Through what power,Even for the least division of an hour,Have I been so beguiled as to be blindTo my most grievous loss! That thought's … [Read more...] about Surprised By Joy, By: William Wordsworth




