The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, 7. kötet

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W. Paterson, 1885
 

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175. oldal - To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring warbler! — that love-prompted strain — 'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond — Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain: Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing All independent of the leafy spring.
157. oldal - Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief ; The sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp, It cheered mild Spenser, called from Faery-land To struggle through dark ways; and when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet ; whence he blew Soul-animating strains — alas, too few...
270. oldal - And if, as Yarrow, through the woods And down the meadow ranging, Did meet us with unaltered face, Though we were changed and changing; If, then, some natural shadows spread Our inward prospect over, The soul's deep valley was not slow Its brightness to recover.
111. oldal - To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye ; Convinced that there, there only, she can lay Secure foundations.
62. oldal - God; with much ease:" and presently delivered into his hand a walking-staff, with which he professed he had travelled through many parts of Germany.
74. oldal - Bodies fall by wild sword-law ; • But who would force the Soul, tilts with a straw Against a Champion cased in adamant.
103. oldal - Retirement then might hourly look Upon a soothing scene, Age steal to his allotted nook Contented and serene ; With heart as calm as lakes that sleep, In frosty moonlight glistening ; Or mountain rivers, where they creep Along a channel smooth and deep, To their own far-off murmurs listening.
114. oldal - Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along.
201. oldal - A Voice to Light gave Being ; To Time, and man his earthborn chronicler ; A Voice shall finish doubt and dim foreseeing, And sweep away life's visionary stir ; The trumpet (we, intoxicate with pride, Arm at its blast for deadly wars) To archangelic lips applied, The grave shall open, quench the stars.
269. oldal - Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day, Their dignity installing In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves Were on the bough, or falling; But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed The forest to embolden; Reddened the fiery hues, and shot Transparence through the golden. For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on In foamy agitation; And slept in many a crystal pool...

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