The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, 第 1 卷

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W. Paterson, 1882

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第 265 頁 - These beauteous forms Through a long absence have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye : But oft. in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ; And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration...
第 269 頁 - And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance — If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence...
第 200 頁 - Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
第 231 頁 - tis my faith that every flower , Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure : — But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure. ! The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air ; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there...
第 264 頁 - That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
第 268 頁 - tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead ; . From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
第 195 頁 - ... mountain ascending, a vision of trees ; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail ; And a single small Cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves. She looks, and her heart is in heaven : but they fade, The mist and the river, the hill and the shade : The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,...
第 200 頁 - My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit — I sit and sing to them. And often after sun-set, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there. The first that died was sister Jane ; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain ; And then she went away.
第 236 頁 - Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress; That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness. 'Think you, "mid all this mighty sum Of things for ever speaking, That nothing of itself will come, But we must still be seeking? '- Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, Conversing as I may, I sit upon this old grey stone, And dream my time away.
第 199 頁 - 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 clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; •*—Her beauty made me glad. 22 " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.

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