There is a Bondage Worse, Far Worse, to Bear, by William Wordsworth
There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear
Than his who breathes, by roof, and floor, and...
Poems by William Wordsworth
There Is an Eminence—Of These Our Hills, by William Wordsworth
There is an Eminence, of these our hills
The last that parleys with the setting sun;
We can be...
The Thorn, by William Wordsworth
I "There is a Thornit looks so old,
In truth, you'd find it hard to say
How it could ever ha...
Thoughts suggested the Day following, on the Banks of Nith, near the Poet's Residence, by William Wordsworth
Too frail to keep the lofty vow
That must have followed when his brow
Was wreathed"The Vision" ...
Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower, by William Wordsworth
Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower
On earth was nev...
'Tis Said, That Some Have Died for Love, by William Wordsworth
'Tis said, that some have died for love:
And here and there a church-yard grave is found
In t...
To a Butterfly, by William Wordsworth
Stay near medo not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in t...
To a Butterfly II, by William Wordsworth
I've watch'd you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butt...
To a Highland Girl, by William Wordsworth
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower
Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
Twice seven consenting year...
To a Sexton, by William Wordsworth
Let thy wheel-barrow alone
Wherefore, Sexton, piling still
In thy bone-house bone on bone?
'...
To a Sky-Lark, by William Wordsworth
Up with me! Up with me into the clouds!
For thy song, Lark, is strong;
Up with me, up with ...
To a Young Lady, who had been Reproached for taking Long Walks in the Country, by William Wordsworth
Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!
There is a nest in a green dale,
A harbour and a hold;
...
To H. C., by William Wordsworth
O thou! Whose fancies from afar are brought;
Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel,
And f...
To Joanna, by William Wordsworth
Amid the smoke of cities did you pass
The time of early youth; and there you learned,
From yea...
To M. H., by William Wordsworth
Our walk was far among the ancient trees:
There was no road, nor any woodman's path;
But a t...