The Sonnets of William Wordsworth: Collected in One Volume, with a Few Additional Ones, Now First Published, Volumen 1

Portada
E. Moxon, 1838 - 477 páginas
This book contains a collection of Wordsworth's sonnets. It includes such celebrated poems as "The world is too much within us."?
 

Comentarios de usuarios - Escribir una reseña

No hemos encontrado ninguna reseña en los sitios habituales.

Páginas seleccionadas

Otras ediciones - Ver todo

Términos y frases comunes

Pasajes populares

Página 18 - Sleepless! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear to-night away: Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth ? Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
Página 84 - O ye spires of Oxford ! domes and towers ! Gardens and groves ! your presence overpowers The soberness of reason ; till, in sooth, Transformed, and rushing on a bold exchange, I slight my own beloved Cam, to range . Where silver Isis leads my stripling feet ; Pace the long avenue, or glide adown The stream-like windings of that glorious street — An eager Novice robed in fluttering gown...
Página 132 - 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. Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
Página 43 - Better than such discourse doth silence long, Long, barren silence, square with my desire ; To sit without emotion, hope, or aim, In the loved presence of my cottage-fire, And listen to the flapping of the flame, Or kettle whispering its faint undersong.
Página 221 - Tweed, best pleased in chanting a blithe strain, Saddens his voice again, and yet again. Lift up your hearts, ye mourners ! for the might Of the whole world's good wishes with him goes ; Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue Than sceptred king or laurelled conqueror knows, Follow this wondrous potentate. Be true, Ye winds of ocean, and the midland sea, Wafting your charge to soft Parthenope...
Página 83 - 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.
Página 134 - Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held. - In everything we are sprung Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.
Página 135 - For dearly must we prize thee ; we who find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men ; And I by my affection was beguiled : What wonder if a Poet now and then, Among the many movements of his mind, Felt for thee as a lover or a child ! OCTOBER, 1803.
Página iii - My admiration of some of the Sonnets of Milton first tempted me to write in that form. The fact is not mentioned from a notion that it will be deemed of any importance by the reader, but merely as a public acknowledgment of one of the innumerable obligations which, as a Poet and a Man. I am under to our great fellow-countryman.'— AJvtrtucmtnt to tht collated tditioit of tkt SONNETS, 1838.
Página 58 - Grove, isle, with every shape of sky-built dome, Though clad in colours beautiful and pure, Find in the heart of man no natural home : The immortal Mind craves objects that endure : These cleave to it ; from these it cannot roam, Nor they from it : their fellowship is secure.

Información bibliográfica