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Poetry of William Wordsworth
- The Minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the Moon." At this the Father rais'd his hook And snapp'd a faggot-band; He plied his work, and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent, to be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn. Whats less well-known is that Wordsworths sister Dorothy and, indeed, his wife had a hand in the composition of the poem, as we explore here. Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty; aggression and Violence in the Workplace A countenance in which did meet. The waves beside them danced; but they. Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good. For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.
The wretched Parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide. Strange fits of passion have I known: And I will dare to tell, But in the lover's ear alone, What once to me befell. My horse moved on; hoof after hoof He raised, and never stopp'd: When down behind the cottage roof, At once, the bright moon dropp'd. That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
I travell'D among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! Ode: Intimations of Immortality. And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line, along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. The storm came on before its time, She wander'd up and down, And many a hill did Lucy climb But never reach'd the Town. The best Wordsworth poems,. Image (bottom Portrait of William Wordsworth by Benjamin Haydon, 1842; via Wikimedia Commons. Continuous as the stars that shine.