Dear native brook! wild streamlet of the West! Earine, Eden, where delicious Paradise, Eftsoons, they heard a most melodious sound, Egeria sweet creation of some heart, Ere, in the northern gale, Ever let the Fancy roam, Fair as unshaded light; or as the day, Fair Daffodils, we weep to see, Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, First-born of Chaos, who so fair didst come, From frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow, Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Get up, get up, for shame; the blooming morn, Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove, Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven, first-born, Happy the man whose wish and care, Happy insect! what can be, - Happy they! the happiest of their kind! Page Hark! music speaks from out the woods and streams, 178 Here, where precipitate Spring, with one light bound, 172 If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, In her ear he whispers gaily, How still the morning of the hallowed day, How sweet it were, if without feeble fright, I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn, I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, If all the world and love were young, If I had thought thou couldst have died, If I were thou, O Butterfly, If thou shouldst ever come by choice or chance, I had a friend who died in early youth! I have a name, a little name, I have had playmates, I have had companions, I loved him not, and yet now he is gone, I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary, In lowly dale, fast by a river's side, In petticoat of green, Is there a whim-inspired fool, It is not that my lot is low, 362 360 153 It's hame, and it 's hame, hame fain wad I be, It was an aged man, who stood, - 138 416 Let me not to the marriage of true minds, Little Ellie sits alone, 216 362 444 64 Lone, by my solitary hearth, Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, Maddened by Earth's wrong and evil, 235 114 380 Maiden! with the meek brown eyes, 118 Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes, Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, Now that the winter 's gone, the earth has lost, Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, 285 78 O, lady, twine no wreath for me, 36 O luve will venture in where it daurna weel be seen, - O my love 's like the stedfast sun, O my luve 's like a red, red rose, On a day (alack the day!) O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray, O that those lips had language! life has passed, O Time! who knowest a lenient hand to lay, Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Queen of the silver bow! by thy pale beam, Reach, with your whiter hands, to me, Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! She doth tell me where to borrow, 108 Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigued I said, 258 So spake th' eternal Father, and fulfilled, 425 Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, 83 Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou, 180 363 Page Take, oh, take those lips away, Tell me not, in mournful numbers, The cheerful sabbath bells, wherever heard, The frost performs its secret ministry, The garlands fade that Spring so lately wove, The green leaves as we pass, The ivy in a dungeon grew, - The Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor, The lark has sung his carol in the sky, The lark now leaves his watery nest, The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, The rising moon has hid the stars, There's not a joy the world can give, like that it takes away, - There were twa sisters lived in a bouir, These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good, The spring is here-the delicate-footed May, The star that bids the shepherd fold, The twentieth year is well nigh past, The wild-winged creature, clad in gore, The wisest of us all, when woe, |