Summary THE LADY OF SHALOTT by LORD TENNYSON

The island of Shalott was situated in a river. There were many fields on either side of the river. Through the fields a road ran to the city of Camelot which had many towers. People walked up and down on the road and the river also flowed down to the Camelot. On the island the Lady of Shalott lived alone. No one had ever seen her. She had never come to the window. Only the farmers sometimes heard her song and called her the Lady of Shalott. 

Summary TO AUTUMN by JOHN KEATS

'To Autumn' is a perfect and flawless ode of Keats. It is the briefest of his odes and a purely objective and descriptive poem. There are no personal feelings, no questions, no conflicts. It consists of only three stanzas and the development of thought is perfectly logical and systematic. The first stanza describes the ripe fruits of autumn, the second describes the work of the season and the third deals with its music. The poem presents three complete and concrete pictures of autumn. The poet loves nature in all moods and seasons. He can find beauty even in autumn and even this season can cheer and inspire him. 

Summary SPIRIT OF DELIGHT by P. B. SHELLEY

SHELLEY is it in very sad mood in the poem. He invokes The spirit of Joy. He feels that the spirit of delight has left him. He does not know why it has left him. His days and nights are dull and sad. He does not know how to call it back again. It lives with happy people and keeps away from pain and sorrow. It has deceived the poet. It has completely forgotten him. It lives with the happy people who do not need it at all. 

Summary THE CLOUD by P. B. SHELLEY

The cloud is in love with the flowers, leaves and buds. It brings fresh showers of rain from the seas and streams for the thirsty flowers. At noon, it provides cool shade to the leaves when they seem to be drooping in sleep and dreaming of water. The earth dances around the sun and sends flowers and buds to sleep. In the morning, the cloud wakes them up from sleep by shaking due-droops from its wings. 

Summary TO MY SISTER by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

The poem is addressed to Wordsworth's younger sister, Dorothy Wordsworth. He urged her to come out into the open lap of nature. She can learn more from nature then from her books. So she should put on her woodland dress and spend the day among trees. She should come out to enjoy the beauties of nature for a day. She should bring no book with her because the day is to be spent in idleness. 

Summary STRAY PLEASURE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

The poem point out that the earth is full of pleasure. There are stray gifts of pleasures spread through the earth. Anyone who wants, can find them scattered here and there. The poet believes that pleasure is not far to seek. Anyone, who seeks it, finds it easily anywhere and everywhere. 

Summary TO SPRING by WILLIAM BLAKE

To spring poem is addressed to the spring season. The poet calls upon the season to visit his land. He fervently appeals to the season to poor soft kisses on the bosom of love-sick land and awaken her to a new life and Joy. The poet wants a boon for his native land. He urged the season to bless his land. 

Cat and Mouse in Partnership

A cat had made the acquaintance of a mouse, and had said so much to her about the great love and friendship that he felt for her, that at last the mouse agreed that they should live and keep house together. "But we must make preparations for winter, or else we shall suffer from hunger," said the cat, "and you, little mouse, cannot venture out everywhere, or in the end you will be caught in a trap."

The Frog King

In olden times, when wishing still did some good, there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful, but the youngest was so beautiful that the sun itself, who, indeed, has seen so much, marveled every time it shone upon her face. In the vicinity of the king's castle there was a large, dark forest, and in this forest, beneath an old linden tree, there was a well. In the heat of the day the princess would go out into the forest and sit on the edge of the cool well. To pass the time she would take a golden ball, throw it into the air, and then catch it. It was her favorite plaything.

Hansel and Gretel

Next to a great forest there lived a poor woodcutter with his wife and his two children. The boy's name was Hansel and the girl's name was Gretel. He had but little to eat, and once, when a great famine came to the land, he could no longer provide even their daily bread.

One evening as he was lying in bed worrying about his problems, he sighed and said to his wife, "What is to become of us? How can we feed our children when we have nothing for ourselves?"

Sleeping Beauty

Long ago there lived a King and Queen who said every day, "If only we had a child!"  But for a long time they had none.

One day, as the Queen was bathing in a spring and dreaming of a child, a frog crept out of the water and said to her, "Your wish shall be fulfilled.  Before a year has passed you shall bring a daughter into the world."

And since frogs are such magical creatures, it was no surprise that before a year had passed the Queen had a baby girl.

Cinderella

A rich man's wife became sick, and when she felt that her end was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, "Dear child, remain pious and good, and then our dear God will always protect you, and I will look down on you from heaven and be near you." With this she closed her eyes and died.

The girl went out to her mother's grave every day and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white cloth over the grave, and when the spring sun had removed it again, the man took himself another wife.

The Goose Girl

There was once upon a time an old queen whose husband had been dead for many years, and she had a beautiful daughter. When the princess grew up she was betrothed to a prince who lived at a great distance. When the time came for her to be married, and she had to journey forth into the distant kingdom, the aged queen packed up for her many costly vessels of silver and gold, and trinkets also of gold and silver, and cups and jewels, in short, everything which appertained to a royal dowry, for she loved her child with all her heart.

Jean Gourdon's Four Days / Emile Zola

I

SPRING

On that particular day, at about five o'clock in the morning, the sun

entered with delightful abruptness into the little room I occupied at the

house of my uncle Lazare, parish priest of the hamlet of Dourgues. A broad

yellow ray fell upon ray closed eyelids, and I awoke in light.

Yew-Trees / William Wordsworth

There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,

Which to this day stands single, in the midst

Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore:

Not loathe to furnish weapons for the Bands

Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched

To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea

And drew their sounding bows at Azincour,

Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers.

Yarrow Visited / William Wordsworth

And is this -Yarrow? -This the stream

Of which my fancy cherished

So faithfully, a waking dream,

An image that hath perished?

O that some minstrel's harp were near

To utter notes of gladness

And chase this silence from the air,

That fills my heart with sadness!

Written in London / William Wordsworth

O Friend! I know not which way I must look

For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,

To think that now our life is only drest

For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,

Or groom! -We must run glittering like a brook

In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:

The wealthiest man among us is the best:

Written in Early Spring / William Wordsworth

I heard a thousand blended notes

While in a grove I sat reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What Man has made of Man.

Within King's College Chapel, Cambridge / William Wordsworth

Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,

With ill-matched aims the architect who planned

(Albeit labouring for a scanty band

Of white-robed scholars only) this immense

And glorious work of fine intelligence!

- Give all thou canst; high heaven rejects the lore

Of nicely-calculated less or more: - 

So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense

When I Have Borne in Memory What Has Tamed / William Wordsworth

When I have borne in memory what has tamed

Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart

When men change swords for ledgers, and desert

The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed

I had, my Country -am I to be blamed?

Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art,

Verily, in the bottom of my heart,

Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.

We Are Seven / William Wordsworth

 A simple child, dear brother Jim,

  That lightly draws its breath,

  And feels its life in every limb,

  What should it know of death?

  I met a little cottage girl,

  She was eight years old, she said;

  Her hair was thick with many a curl

  That cluster'd round her head.

Upon Westminster Bridge / William Wordsworth

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth like a garment wear

The beauty of the morning: silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky,

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

To Toussaint L'Ouverture / William Wordsworth

Toussaint, the most unhappy Man of Men!

Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough

Within thy hearing, or thy head be now

Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den; - 

O miserable Chieftain! where and when

Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou

Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow:

To the Daisy / William Wordsworth

In youth from rock to rock I went,

From hill to hill in discontent

Of pleasure high and turbulent,

Most pleased when most uneasy;

But now my own delights I make, - 

My thirst at every rill can slake,

And gladly Nature's love partake

Of Thee, sweet Daisy!

To the Cuckoo / William Wordsworth

O blithe newcomer! I have heard,

I hear thee and rejoice:

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,

Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass

Thy twofold shout I hear;

From hill to hill it seems to pass,

At once far off and near.

To a Skylark / William Wordsworth

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!

Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?

Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye

Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?

Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,

Those quivering wings composed, that music still!

Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower / William Wordsworth

Three years she grew in sun and shower;

Then Nature said "A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown;

This child I to myself will take;

She shall be mine, and I will make

A lady of my own.

Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland / William Wordsworth

Two Voices are there -one is of the Sea,

One of the Mountains; each a mighty Voice:

In both from age to age thou didst rejoice;

They were thy chosen music, Liberty!

There came a tyrant, and with holy glee

Thou fought'st against him; but hast vainly striven:

Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven

Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.

The World Is Too Much With Us; Late and Soon / William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;

Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,

The winds that will be howling at all hours,

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,

The Two April Mornings / William Wordsworth

We walked along, while bright and red

Uprose the morning sun;

And Matthew stopped, he looked, and said

`The will of God be done!'

A village schoolmaster was he,

With hair of glittering grey;

As blithe a man as you could see

On a spring holiday.

The Thorn / William Wordsworth

 I.

  There is a thorn; it looks so old,

  In truth you'd find it hard to say,

  How it could ever have been young,

  It looks so old and grey.

  Not higher than a two years' child

  It stands erect this aged thorn;

  No leaves it has, no thorny points;

  It is a mass of knotted joints,

  A wretched thing forlorn.

  It stands erect, and like a stone

  With lichens it is overgrown.

The Tables Turned / William Wordsworth

An Evening Scene, on the same Subject

  Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,

  Why all this toil and trouble?

  Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,

  Or surely you'll grow double.

  The sun, above the mountain's head,

  A freshening lustre mellow

  Through all the long green fields has spread,

  His first sweet evening yellow.

The Sun Has Long Been Set / William Wordsworth

The sun has long been set,

The stars are out by twos and threes,

The little birds are piping yet

Among the bushes and the trees;

There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,

And a far-off wind that rushes,

And a sound of water that gushes,

And the cuckoo's sovereign cry

Fills all the hollow of the sky.

The Reverie of Poor Susan / William Wordsworth

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,

Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:

Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard

In the silence of morning the song of the bird.

'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees

A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;

Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,

And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.

The Reaper / William Wordsworth

Behold her, single in the field,

Yon solitary Highland Lass!

Reaping and singing by herself;

Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,

And sings a melancholy strain;

O listen! for the vale profound

Is overflowing with the sound.

The Nightingale / William Wordsworth

No cloud, no relique of the sunken day

  Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip

  Of sullen Light, no obscure trembling hues.

  Come, we will rest on this old mossy Bridge!

  You see the glimmer of the stream beneath,

  But hear no murmuring: it flows silently

  O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still,

  A balmy night! and tho' the stars be dim,

  Yet let us think upon the vernal showers

  That gladden the green earth, and we shall find

  A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.

The Mad Mother / William Wordsworth

Her eyes are wild, her head is bare,

  The sun has burnt her coal-black hair,

  Her eye-brows have a rusty stain,

  And she came far from over the main.

  She has a baby on her arm,

  Or else she were alone;

  And underneath the hay-stack warm,

  And on the green-wood stone,

  She talked and sung the woods among;

The Lesser Celandine / William Wordsworth

There is a Flower, the Lesser Celandine,

That shrinks, like many more, from cold and rain;

And, the first moment that the sun may shine,

Bright as the sun himself, 'tis out again!

When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm,

Or blasts the green field and the trees distressed,

Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm,

In close self-shelter, like a Thing at rest.

The Leech-Gatherer ( Resolution and Independence) / William Wordsworth

There was a roaring in the wind all night;

The rain came heavily and fell in floods;

But now the sun is rising calm and bright;

The birds are singing in the distant woods;

Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;

The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;

And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.

The Last of the Flock / William Wordsworth

 In distant countries I have been,

  And yet I have not often seen

  A healthy man, a man full grown,

  Weep in the public roads alone.

  But such a one, on English ground,

  And in the broad high-way, I met;

  Along the broad high-way he came,

  His cheeks with tears were wet.

  Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;

  And in his arms a lamb he had.

The Idiot Boy / William Wordsworth

'Tis eight o'clock,--a clear March night,

  The moon is up--the sky is blue,

  The owlet in the moonlight air,

  He shouts from nobody knows where;

  He lengthens out his lonely shout,

  Halloo! halloo! a long halloo!

The Green Linnet / William Wordsworth

Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed

Their snow-white blossoms on my head,

With brightest sunshine round me spread

Of spring's unclouded weather,

In this sequestered nook how sweet

To sit upon my orchard-seat!

And birds and flowers once more to greet,

My last year's friends together.

The Fountain / William Wordsworth

A Conversation

We talked with open heart, and tongue

Affectionate and true,

A pair of friends, though I was young,

And Matthew seventy-two.

We lay beneath a spreading oak,

Beside a mossy seat;

And from the turf a fountain broke

And gurgled at our feet.

The Foster Mother's Tale / William Wordsworth

A Narration in Dramatic Blank Verse.

        But that entrance, Mother!

FOSTER-MOTHER.

  Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale!

MARIA.

  No one.

FOSTER-MOTHER.

        My husband's father told it me,

  Poor old Leoni!--Angels rest his soul!

  He was a woodman, and could fell and saw

  With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam

  Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel?

The Female Vagrant / William Wordsworth

 By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood,

  (The Woman thus her artless story told)

  One field, a flock, and what the neighbouring flood

  Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold.

  Light was my sleep; my days in transport roll'd:

  With thoughtless joy I stretch'd along the shore

  My father's nets, or from the mountain fold

The Dungeon / William Wordsworth

And this place our forefathers made for man!

  This is the process of our love and wisdom

  To each poor brother who offends against us--

  Most innocent, perhaps--and what if guilty?

  Is this the only cure? Merciful God!

  Each pore and natural outlet shrivell'd up

  By ignorance and parching poverty,

The Complaint / William Wordsworth

Before I see another day,

  Oh let my body die away!

  In sleep I heard the northern gleams;

  The stars they were among my dreams;

  In sleep did I behold the skies,

  I saw the crackling flashes drive;

  And yet they are upon my eyes,

  And yet I am alive.

  Before I see another day,

  Oh let my body die away!

The Ancient Mariner / William Wordsworth

ARGUMENT.

How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by Storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to his own Country.

I.

It is an ancyent Marinere,

  And he stoppeth one of three:

"By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye

  "Now wherefore stoppest me?

The Affliction of Margaret / William Wordsworth

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 same

That I may rest; and neither blame

Nor sorrow may attend thy name?

Surprised By Joy / William Wordsworth

Surprised by joy -impatient as the wind

I turned to share the transport -Oh! with whom

But 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 blind

To my most grievous loss? -That thought's return

Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore

Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,

Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;

That neither present time, nor years unborn,

Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

Simon Lee, The Old Huntsman / William Wordsworth

In the sweet shire of Cardigan,

Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall,

An old man dwells, a little man, - 

'Tis said he once was tall.

Full five-and-thirty years he lived

A running huntsman merry;

And still the centre of his cheek

Is red as a ripe cherry.

She Was a Phantom of Delight / William Wordsworth

She was a Phantom of delight

When first she gleamed upon my sight;

A lovely Apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament;

Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;

Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;

A dancing Shape, an Image gay,

To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways / William Wordsworth

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

Scorn Not the Sonnet; Critic, You Have Frowned / William Wordsworth

Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned,

Mindless of its just honours; with this key

Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody

Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound;

A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound;

Camoens soothed with it an exile's grief;

The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf

Ruth: Or The Influences of Nature / William Wordsworth

When Ruth was left half desolate

Her father took another mate;

And Ruth, not seven years old,

A slighted child, at her own will

Went wandering over dale and hill,

In thoughtless freedom, bold.

On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic / William Wordsworth

Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee,

And was the safeguard of the West: the worth

Of Venice did not fall below her birth,

Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.

She was a maiden city, bright and free:

No guile seduced, no force could violate;

And when she took unto herself a mate

She must espouse the everlasting sea.

Ode: Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood / William Wordsworth

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,

The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.

It is not now as it hath been of yore;--

Turn wheresoe'er I may,

By night or day,

The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

Ode to Duty / William Wordsworth

Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!

O Duty! if that name you love

Who art a light to guide, a rod

To check the erring, and reprove;

Thou, who art victory and law

When empty terrors overawe;

From vain temptations dost set free,

And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!

Ode / William Wordsworth

Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,

The earth, and every common sight

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.

It is not now as it hath been of yore - 

Turn wheresoe'er I may,

By night or day,

The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

My Heart Leaps Up When I Behold / William Wordsworth

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began,

So is it now I am a man,

So be it when I shall grow old

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man:

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

Mutability / William Wordsworth

From low to high doth dissolution climb,

And sink from high to low, along a scale

Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail:

A musical but melancholy chime,

Which they can hear who meddle not with crime,

Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.

Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear

The longest date do melt like frosty rime,

Lucy / William Wordsworth

I

STRANGE fits of passion have I known:

  And I will dare to tell,

But in the lover’s ear alone,

  What once to me befell.

When she I loved look’d every day        5

  Fresh as a rose in June,

I to her cottage bent my way,

  Beneath an evening moon.

Love / William Wordsworth

All Thoughts, all Passions, all Delights,

  Whatever stirs this mortal Frame,

  All are but Ministers of Love,

    And feed his sacred flame.

  Oft in my waking dreams do I

  Live o'er again that happy hour,

  When midway on the Mount I lay

    Beside the Ruin'd Tower.

London, 1802 / William Wordsworth

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour;

England hath need of thee: she is a fen

Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,

Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,

Have forfeited their ancient English dower

Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;

Oh! raise us up, return to us again;

And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.

Lines written when sailing / William Wordsworth

Written when sailing in a Boat At EVENING.

  How rich the wave, in front, imprest

  With evening twilights summer hues,

  While, facing thus the crimson west,

  The boat her silent path pursues!

  And see how dark the backward stream!

  A little moment past, so smiling!

  And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,

  Some other loiterer beguiling.

Lines written near Richmond / William Wordsworth

Glide gently, thus for ever glide,

  O Thames! that other bards may see,

  As lovely visions by thy side

  As now, fair river! come to me.

  Oh glide, fair stream! for ever so;

  Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,

  'Till all our minds for ever flow,

  As thy deep waters now are flowing.

Lines written at a small distance from my house / William Wordsworth

 Written at a small distance from my House, and sent by

  my little boy to the person to whom they are addressed.

  It is the first mild day of March:

  Each minute sweeter than before,

  The red-breast sings from the tall larch

  That stands beside our door.

Lines left upon a seat / William Wordsworth

Left upon a seat in a YEW-TREE, which stands near the

  Lake of ESTHWAITE, on a desolate part of the shore,

  yet commanding a beautiful prospect.

  --Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely yew-tree stands

  Far from all human dwelling: what if here

  No sparkling rivulet spread the verdant herb;

  What if these barren boughs the bee not loves;

  Yet, if the wind breathe soft, the curling waves,

  That break against the shore, shall lull thy mind

  By one soft impulse saved from vacancy.

Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey / William Wordsworth

Five years have past; five summers, with the length

Of five long winters! and again I hear

These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs

With a soft inland murmur. Once again

Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,

That on a wild secluded scene impress

Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect

The landscape with the quiet of the sky.

Influence of Natural Objects / William Wordsworth

In Calling Forth and Strengthening the Imagination

in Boyhood and Early Youth

Wisdom and Spirit of the Universe!

Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!

And giv'st to forms and images a breath

And everlasting motion! not in vain,

By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn

Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me

The passions that build up our human soul,

Not with the mean and vulgar works of man,

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud / William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils,

Beside the lake, beneath the trees

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

I Travelled Among Unknown Men / William Wordsworth

I travelled among unknown men

In lands beyond the sea;

Nor, England! did I know till then

What love I bore to thee.

'Tis past, that melancholy dream!

Nor will I quit thy shore

A second time; for still I seem

To love thee more and more.

Goody Blake and Harry Gill / William Wordsworth

A TRUE STORY,

  Oh! what's the matter? what's the matter?

  What is't that ails young Harry Gill?

  That evermore his teeth they chatter,

  Chatter, chatter, chatter still.

  Of waistcoats Harry has no lack,

  Good duffle grey, and flannel fine;

  He has a blanket on his back,

  And coats enough to smother nine.

Expostulation and Reply / William Wordsworth

 "Why, William, on that old grey stone,

  Thus for the length of half a day,

  Why, William, sit you thus alone,

  And dream your time away?"

  "Where are your books? that light bequeath'd

  To beings else forlorn and blind!

  Up! Up! and drink the spirit breath'd

  From dead men to their kind."

By the Sea / William Wordsworth

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;

The holy time is quiet as a nun

Breathless with adoration; the broad sun

Is sinking down in its tranquillity;

The gentleness of heaven is on the sea:

Listen! the mighty Being is awake,

And doth with his eternal motion make

A sound like thunder -everlastingly.

Animal Tranquility and Decay / William Wordsworth

A Sketch

The little hedgerow birds,

That peck along the road, regard him not.

He travels on, and in his face, his step,

His gait, is one expression; every limb,

His look and bending figure, all bespeak

A man who does not move with pain, but moves

With thought. -He is insensibly subdued

To settled quiet: he is one by whom

Anecdote for Fathers / William Wordsworth

  Shewing how the practice of Lying may be taught.

  I have a boy of five years old,

  His face is fair and fresh to see;

  His limbs are cast in beauty's mould,

  And dearly he loves me.