Poet William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth Poems

  • 51.  
    O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
    I hear thee and rejoice.O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
  • 52.  
    O Friend! I know not which way I must look
    For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,To think that now our life is only drest
  • 53.  
    The cock is crowing,
    The stream is flowing,The small birds twitter,
  • 54.  
    The gallant Youth, who may have gained,
    Or seeks, a “winsome Marrow,”Was but an Infant in the lap
  • 55.  
    See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon
    the banks of the Yarrow; in particular, the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton beginning-
  • 56.  
    And is this-Yarrow?-This the stream
    Of which my fancy cherished,So faithfully, a waking dream?
  • 57.  
    The minstrels played their Christmas tune
    To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;While, smitten by a lofty moon,
  • 58.  
    Surprised by joy-impatient as the Wind
    I turned to share the transport-O! with whom But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
  • 59.  
    O friend! I know not which way I must look
    For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest
  • 60.  
    Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
    England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
  • 61.  
    Great men have been among us; hands that penn'd
    And tongues that utter'd wisdom-better none: The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,
  • 62.  
    It is not to be thought of that the flood
    Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity
  • 63.  
    When I have borne in memory what has tamed
    Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart When men change swords for ledgers, and desert
  • 64.  
    It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
    The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
  • 65.  
    Strange fits of passion have I known:
    And I will dare to tell,But in the lover's ear alone,
  • 66.  
    She dwelt among the untrodden ways
    Beside the springs of Dove,A Maid whom there were none to praise
  • 67.  
    I travell'd among unknown men,
    In lands beyond the sea;Nor, England! did I know till then
  • 68.  
    Three years she grew in sun and shower;
    Then Nature said, ‘A lovelier flower On earth was never sown;
  • 69.  
    A slumber did my spirit seal;
    I had no human fears:She seem'd a thing that could not feel
  • 70.  
    Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant
    Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air Of absence withers what was once so fair?
  • 71.  
    My heart leaps up when I behold
    A rainbow in the sky:So was it when my life began;
  • 72.  
    Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room,
    And hermits are contented with their cells, And students with their pensive citadels;
  • 73.  
    Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown'd,
    Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakespeare unlock'd his heart; the melody
  • 74.  
    There's not a nook within this solemn Pass,
    But were an apt confessional for one Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,
  • 75.  
    I've watched you now a full half hour
    Self-poised upon that yellow flower;And, little Butterfly! indeed
  • 76.  
    I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
    As being pass'd away.-Vain sympathies! For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
  • 77.  
    -A simple Child,
    That lightly draws its breath,And feels its life in every limb,
  • 78.  
    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:
  • 79.  
    "Why, William, on that old grey stone,
    Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone,
  • 80.  
    Now that all hearts are glad, all faces bright,
    Our aged Sovereign sits, to the ebb and flowOf states and kingdoms, to their joy or woe,
  • 81.  
    LADY! the songs of Spring were in the grove
    While I was shaping beds for winter flowers;While I was planting green unfading bowers,
  • 82.  
    HUNGER, and sultry heat, and nipping blast
    From bleak hill-top, and length of march by nightThrough heavy swamp, or over snow-clad height--
  • 83.  
    The Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor
    With the slow motion of a summer's cloud, And now, as he approached a vassal's door,
  • 84.  
    . Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much
    Unvisited, endeavour'd to retrace My life through its first years, and measured back
  • 85.  
    CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate,
    Who never did to Fortune bend the knee;Who slighted fear; rejected steadfastly
  • 86.  
    'These Tourists, heaven preserve us! needs must live
    A profitable life: some glance along, Rapid and gay, as if the earth were air,
  • 87.  
    SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
       Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise
  • 88.  
    COME ye--who, if (which Heaven avert!) the Land
    Were with herself at strife, would take your stand,Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch's side,
  • 89.  
    IT was a 'moral' end for which they fought;
    Else how, when mighty Thrones were put to shame,Could they, poor Shepherds, have preserved an aim,
  • 90.  
    Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends,
    Is marked by no distinguishable line;The turf unites, the pathways intertwine;
  • 91.  
    I heard a thousand blended notes
    While in a grove I sat reclined,In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
  • 92.  
    Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:
    And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day
  • 93.  
    WHEN Contemplation, like the night-calm felt
    Through earth and sky, spreads widely, and sends deepInto the soul its tranquillising power,
  • 94.  
    . Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,
    With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned-- Albeit labouring for a scanty band
  • 95.  
    ADVANCE-come forth from thy Tyrolean ground,
    Dear Liberty! stern Nymph of soul untamed;Sweet Nymph, O rightly of the mountains named!
  • 96.  
    We walked along, while bright and red
    Uprose the morning sun; And Matthew stopped, he looked, and said,
  • 97.  
    SIX YEARS OLD

  • 98.  
    A ROMAN Master stands on Grecian ground,
    And to the people at the Isthmian GamesAssembled, He, by a herald's voice, proclaims
  • 99.  
    BEHOLD, within the leafy shade,
    Those bright blue eggs together laid!On me the chance-discovered sight
  • 100.  
    ONCE in a lonely hamlet I sojourned
    In which a Lady driven from France did dwell;The big and lesser griefs with which she mourned,
Total 356 poems written by William Wordsworth

Poem of the day

On A Fork Of Byron's
 by James Brunton Stephens

Like any other fork.'No mark you meet with
To point some psychological conceit with.
An ordinary fork. A fork to eat with.

No individuality of fashion:
No stamp of frenzy fine, or poet-passion;
An article in no respect Parnassian.

...

Read complete poem

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