Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth

Macmillan and Company, limited, 1925 - 544 Seiten

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Seite 369 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Seite 167 - Is there a man whose judgment clear, Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, Wild as the wave ; Here pause — and, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave. The poor Inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame, But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name ! Reader, attend — whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ;...
Seite 381 - Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn ; My True-love sighed for sorrow, And looked me in the face, to think I thus could speak of Yarrow! "O green," said I, "are Yarrow's holms, And sweet is Yarrow flowing! Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, But we will leave it growing. O'er hilly path, and open strath We'll wander Scotland thorough ; But, though so near, we will not turn Into the dale of Yarrow.
Seite 106 - I never saw daffodils so beautiful. They grew among the mossy stones about and about them; some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness...
Seite 262 - And these grey rocks; that household lawn; Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water that doth make A murmur near the silent lake...
Seite 264 - I be loth to stir? I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, Continued long as life shall last. Nor am I...
Seite 356 - Twould be a wildish destiny, If we, who thus together roam In a strange land, and far from home, Were in this place the guests of Chance : Yet who would stop, or fear to advance, Though home or shelter he had none, With such a Sky to lead him on...
Seite 100 - The thought first came upon him as we were talking about the pleasure we both always feel at the sight of a Butterfly. I told him that I used to chase them a little but that I was afraid of brushing the dust off their wings, and did not catch them — He told me how they used to kill all the white ones when he went to school because they were frenchmen.
Seite 377 - DEGENERATE Douglas ! oh, the unworthy Lord ! Whom mere despite of heart could so far please, And love of havoc, (for with such disease Fame taxes him,) that he could send forth word To level with the dust a noble horde, A brotherhood of venerable trees, Leaving an ancient dome, and towers like these, Beggared and outraged...
Seite 51 - All these were dead but one, of whom he had not heard for many years, a sailor. His trade was to gather leeches, but now leeches were scarce, and he had not strength for it. He lived by begging, and was making his way to Carlisle, where he should buy a few godly books to sell.

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