Poems by William Wordsworth

Dread hour! When, upheaved by war's sulphurous blast,
This sweet-visaged Cherub of Parian ston...

We talked with open heart, and tongue
Affectionate and true,
A pair of friends, though I w...

As it Appeared to Enthusiasts at its Commencement Oh! Pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mi...

In this still place, remote from men,
Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow Glen;
In this still plac...

Oh! What's the matter? What's the matter?
What is't that ails young Harry Gill?
That evermore h...

Great men have been among us; hands that penned
And tongues that uttered wisdombetter none:
Th...

Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow white blossoms on my head,
With brightest...

I A traveller on the skirt of Sarum's Plain
Pursued his vagrant way, with feet half bare;
S...

I Her eyes are wild, her head is bare,
The sun has burnt her coal-black hair;
Her eyebrows...

'Tis eight o'clock, a clear March night,
The moon is up, the sky is blue,
The owlet, in the ...

The valley rings with mirth and joy;
Among the hills the echoes play
A never never ending song...

I grieved for Buonaparté, with a vain
And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood
Of tha...

Amid this dance of objects sadness steals
O'er the defrauded heart--while sweeping by,
As in a...

On his morning rounds the Master
Goes to learn how all things fare;
Searches pasture after pas...