A Narrow Girdle of Rough Stones and Crags (William Wordsworth Poems)
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,A rude and natural causeway, interposedBetween the water and a winding slopeOf copse ...
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,A rude and natural causeway, interposedBetween the water and a winding slopeOf copse ...
Just a shell, to which the seaweed glittering yet with greenness clings,Like the song that once I loved so, softly ...
THE great ship lantern-girdled.The tender standing by;The waning stars cloud-shrouded,The land that we descry!That pale land is our homeland,And we ...
A strong sea-wind flies up and singsAcross the blown-wet border,Whose stormy echo runs and ringsLike bells in wild disorder.Fierce breath ...
True, the time, to one who does not love farce,And if misery must be prefers it nobler, shows apparent vices;At ...
_Under the Disaster of the Second Manassas_They take no shame for dark defeat While prizing yet each victory won,Who fight for ...
Aloof they crown the foreland lone, From aloft they loftier rise--Fair columns, in the aureole rolled From sunned Greek seas and skies.They ...
HARK! Young Democracy from sleep Our careless sentries raps: A backwash from the Future's deep Our Evil's foreland laps. Unknown, ...
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:"Sorrow not, sage! It beseems us betterfriends to avenge than fruitlessly mourn them.Each of us all ...
When I was a lad No more than a nipper ...
INurture thyself, O Soul, from the clear springThat wells beneath the secret inner shrine;Commune with its deep murmur,--'tis divine;Be faithful ...
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To ...
I don't know who Saint Mawes was, but he surely can't have beenA stiff old stone gazebo on a carved ...
Not the encounter of navies in battle array —The roar of salvoes — the smoke-wrack that darkens the day —But ...
There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand grey to the ...
There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand gray to the ...
I The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder, The wing trails like a banner in defeat, ...
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To ...
I. WINTER IN NORTHUMBERLAND OUTSIDE the garden The wet skies harden; The gates are barred on The summer side: "Shut ...
I AM like one that for long days had sate, With seaward eyes set keen against the gale, On some ...
No more of talk where God or Angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd, To sit indulgent, ...
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