William Wordsworth Poems

  • 851.  
    , High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,
    And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.-- The words of ancient time I thus translate,
  • 852.  
    IF Nature, for a favourite child,
    In thee hath tempered so her clay,That every hour thy heart runs wild,
  • 853.  
    Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree stands
    Far from all human dwelling: what if here No sparkling rivulet spread the verdant herb?
  • 854.  
    Before I see another day,
    Oh let my body die away!In sleep I heard the northern gleams;
  • 855.  
    O'ERWEENING Statesmen have full long relied
    On fleets and armies, and external wealth:But from 'within' proceeds a Nation's health;
  • 856.  
    September, 1814

  • 857.  
    SMILE of the Moon!---for I so name
    That silent greeting from above;A gentle flash of light that came
  • 858.  
    BARD of the Fleece, whose skilful genius made
    That work a living landscape fair and bright;Nor hallowed less with musical delight
  • 859.  
    It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
    The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
  • 860.  
    A plague on your languages, German and Norse!
    Let me have the song of the kettle; And the tongs and the poker, instead of that horse
  • 861.  
    I come, ye little noisy Crew,
    Not long your pastime to prevent; I heard the blessing which to you
  • 862.  

  • 863.  
    YE brood of conscience--Spectres! that frequent
    The bad Man's restless walk, and haunt his bed--Fiends in your aspect, yet beneficent
  • 864.  
    ENOUGH of climbing toil!--Ambition treads
    Here, as 'mid busier scenes, ground steep and rough,Or slippery even to peril! and each step,
  • 865.  

  • 866.  
    'Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away!
    Not a soul in the village this morning will stay; The hare has just started from Hamilton's grounds,
  • 867.  
    O HAPPY time of youthful lovers (thus
    My story may begin) O balmy time,In which a love-knot on a lady's brow
  • 868.  

  • 869.  
    ''A little onward lend thy guiding hand
    To these dark steps, a little further on!''--What trick of memory to 'my' voice hath brought
  • 870.  
    I TRAVELL'D among unknown men,
       In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then
  • 871.  
    Or, The Solitude Of Binnorie

  • 872.  
    When Love was born of heavenly line,
    What dire intrigues disturbed Cythera's joy! Till Venus cried, 'A mother's heart is mine;
  • 873.  
    WHEN, to the attractions of the busy world,
    Preferring studious leisure, I had chosenA habitation in this peaceful Vale,
  • 874.  
    ith nice care,
    Is none that with the little Wren's In snugness may compare.
  • 875.  
    YOUNG ENGLAND--what is then become of Old
    Of dear Old England? Think they she is dead,Dead to the very name? Presumption fed
  • 876.  
    (The Final Submission Of The Tyrolese)

  • 877.  
    WHERE lies the Land to which yon Ship must go?
    Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day,Festively she puts forth in trim array;
  • 878.  
    INTREPID sons of Albion! not by you
    Is life despised; ah no, the spacious earthNe'er saw a race who held, by right of birth,
  • 879.  
    d beggar at your gates,
    And let him die by inches- but for worlds Lift not your hand against him- Live, live on,
  • 880.  
    BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight
    From Prussia's timid region. Go, and restWith heroes, 'mid the islands of the Blest,
  • 881.  
    The young Lady to whom this was addressed was my Sister. It was
    composed at school, and during my two first College vacations. There is not an image in it which I have not observed; and now, in
  • 882.  
    Surprised By Joy

  • 883.  
    OCTOBER 1803

  • 884.  
    MILTON! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
       England hath need of thee: she is a fen    Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
  • 885.  
    YES, it was the mountain Echo,
    Solitary, clear, profound,Answering to the shouting Cuckoo,
  • 886.  
    ner in the lowest stair
    Of that magnificent temple which doth boundOne side of our whole vale with grandeur rare;
  • 887.  
    O Nightingale! thou surely art
    A creature of a "fiery heart":--These notes of thine--they pierce and pierce;
  • 888.  
    I know an aged Man constrained to dwell
    In a large house of public charity, Where he abides, as in a Prisoner's cell,
  • 889.  
    A Whirl-Blast from behind the hill
    Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound; Then--all at once the air was still,
  • 890.  
    Lulled by the sound of pastoral bells,
    Rude Nature's Pilgrims did we go, From the dread summit of the Queen
  • 891.  
    A BARKING sound the Shepherd hears,
    A cry as of a dog or fox;He halts--and searches with his eyes
  • 892.  
    The peace which other seek they find;
    The heaviest storms not longet last;Heaven grants even to the guiltiest mind
  • 893.  
    CLOUDS, lingering yet, extend in solid bars
    Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeledBy breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
  • 894.  
    Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere,
    Bold in maternal Nature's care,And all the long year through the heir
  • 895.  
    HAIL, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye
    We can approach, thy sorrow to behold,Yet is the heart not pitiless nor cold;
  • 896.  
    The Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said,
    "Bright is thy veil, O Moon, as thou art bright!" Forthwith, that little cloud, in ether spread
  • 897.  

  • 898.  
    WHEN, far and wide, swift as the beams of morn
    The tidings past of servitude repealed,And of that joy which shook the Isthmian Field,
  • 899.  
    THE leaves were fading when to Esthwaite's banks
    And the simplicities of cottage lifeI bade farewell; and, one among the youth
  • 900.  
    WHEN Contemplation, like the night-calm felt
    Through earth and sky, spreads widely, and sends deep Into the soul its tranquillising power,
Total 1015 poems written by William Wordsworth

Poem of the day

A. E. Housman Poem
When Smoke Stood Up From Ludlow
 by A. E. Housman

When smoke stood up from Ludlow,
And mist blew off from Teme,
And blithe afield to ploughing
Against the morning beam
I strode beside my team,

The blackbird in the coppice
Looked out to see me stride,

Read complete poem

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