 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!  English Poetry and Poets - Página 312por Sarah Warner Brooks - 1890 - 506 páginasVista completa - Acerca de este libro
 | William Wordsworth - 1807 - 180 páginas
...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; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not — Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in... | |
 | William Wordsworth, Dorothy Wordsworth - 1815 - 416 páginas
...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 ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not. — Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1815 - 416 páginas
...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 ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not. — Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in... | |
 | Leigh Hunt - 1820 - 432 páginas
...This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; . „.| ,. t ., ., i -i . The Winds that will be howling at all hours, , And are upgathered now like sleeping flowers':'" For this, for every thing, we are out of tune; ' !•'•s'••-' '• • v.-nn .' It moves us not. — Great... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1820 - 362 páginas
...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 ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1827 - 412 páginas
...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 ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not Great God ! I 'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1828 - 372 páginas
...be howling at all hours, And arc up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune; It moves us not. — Great God. ! I 'd raiher be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses... | |
 | William Wordsworth - 1899 - 308 páginas
...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 ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not — Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in... | |
 | 1839 - 512 páginas
...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 ; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune." ll. Sonnet*, p. 185. (Vhere shall be found a more beautiful spiritualization... | |
 | Leigh Hunt - 1834 - 342 páginas
...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 upgathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not. — Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in... | |
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