Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
Source: Yarrow Unvisited.
Contributed by: Zaady
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
Source: Thoughts suggested on the Banks of the Nith.
He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
Source: A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 10.
Where music dwells Lingering and wandering on as loth to die, Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof That they were born for immortality.
Source: Part iii. xliii. Inside of King's Chapel, Cambridge.
Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,-the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
Source: Rob Roy's Grave.
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind
Source: Intimations of Immortality
To the solid ground Of Nature trusts the mind that builds for aye.
Source: A Volant Tribe of Bards on Earth.
As if the man had fixed his face, In many a solitary place, Against the wind and open sky!
Source: Peter Bell. Part i. Stanza 26. 3
That inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude.
Source: I wandered lonely.
That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
Source: The Excursion. Book i.
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