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Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey.
The Old Cumberland Beggar. As in the eye of Nature he has lived, So in the eye of Nature let him die !
Ibid. There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
Peter Bell. Prologue. Stanza 1. The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me, – her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.
Stanza 27. Full twenty times was Peter feared, For once that Peter was respected.
Part i. Stanza 3. A primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.
Stanza 12. The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!
Stanza 15. On a fair prospect some have looked, And felt, as I have heard them say, As if the moving time had been A thing as steadfast as the scene On which they gazed themselves away.
Stanza 16. As if the man had fixed his face, In many a solitary place, Against the wind and open sky!
| The original edition (London, 1819, 8vo) had the foliowing as the fourth stanza from the end of Part i., which was omitted in all subsequent editions :
Is it a party in a parlour?
One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove, -
And very few to love. She dwelt among the untrodden ways.
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye;
Is shining in the sky.
When Lucy ceased to be ;
The difference to me!
The stars of midnight shall be dear
In many a secret place
Three years she grew in Sun and Shower.
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;
And love and thought and joy.
The Sparrow's Nest.
The child is father of the man."
My heart leaps up when I behold. The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising ; There are forty feeding like one ! The Cock is crowing.
i See Milton, page 241.
Sweet childish days, that were as long
To a Butterfly. I've watched you now a full half-hour.
To the Small Celandine. As high as we have mounted in delight, In our dejection do we sink as low.
Resolution and Independence. Stanzı 4. But how can he expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all ?
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy,
That heareth not the loud winds when they call,
Stanza 14. And mighty poets in their misery dead.
Stanza 17. Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Eurth has not anything to show more fair. The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
It is a beauteous Evening.
Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade
On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic.
Thou has left behind Powers that will work for thee, — air, earth, and skies ! There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
To Toussaint L'Ouverture. One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.
A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 5. He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
And you must love him, ere to you
And often, glad no more,
1 See Gray, page 382.
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Lucy Gray. Stanza 2.
Ruth. Until a man might travel twelve stout miles, Or reap an acre of his neighbor's corn. The Brothers. Something between a hindrance and a help. Michael. Drink, pretty creature, drink !
The Pet Lamb. Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
A narrow Girdle of rough Stones and Crags. And he is oft the wisest man Who is not wise at all.
The Oak and the Broom. “A jolly place,” said he, “in times of old ! But something ails it now: the spot is cursed.”
Hart-leap Well. Part ii. Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
Ibid. Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Ibid. Plain living and high thinking are no more. The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
O Friend! I know not which way I must look. Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee! Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart : So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
London, 1802. We must be free or die who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake, the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
It is not to be thought of. A noticeable man, with large gray eyes.
Stanzas written in Thomson's Castle of Indolence.