Poems by William Wordsworth

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Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower

Three years she grew in sun and shower,

Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown;

This Child I to myself will take;

She shall be mine, and I will make

A Lady of my own.

"Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse: and with me

by William Wordsworth

"Advance – Come Forth From Thy Tyrolean Ground"

ADVANCE—come forth from thy Tyrolean ground,

Dear Liberty! stern Nymph of soul untamed;

Sweet Nymph, O rightly of the mountains named!

Through the long chain of Alps from mound to mound

And o'er the eternal snows, like Echo, bound;

Like Echo, when the hunter train at dawn

Have roused her from her sleep: and forest-lawn,

Cliffs, woods and caves, her viewless steps resound

by William Wordsworth

Alice Fell, Or Poverty

THE post-boy drove with fierce career,

For threatening clouds the moon had drowned;

When, as we hurried on, my ear

Was smitten with a startling sound.

As if the wind blew many ways,

I heard the sound,—and more and more;

It seemed to follow with the chaise,

And still I heard it as before.

by William Wordsworth

The Old Cumberland Beggar

. I saw an aged Beggar in my walk;

And he was seated, by the highway side,

On a low structure of rude masonry

Built at the foot of a huge hill, that they

Who lead their horses down the steep rough road

May thence remount at ease. The aged Man

Had placed his staff across the broad smooth stone

That overlays the pile; and, from a bag

by William Wordsworth

Anecdote For Fathers

I HAVE a boy of five years old;

His face is fair and fresh to see;

His limbs are cast in beauty's mold

And dearly he loves me.

One morn we strolled on our dry walk,

Or quiet home all full in view,

And held such intermitted talk

As we are wont to do.

by William Wordsworth

Dion [See Plutarch]

Serene, and fitted to embrace,

Where'er he turned, a swan-like grace

Of haughtiness without pretence,

And to unfold a still magnificence,

Was princely Dion, in the power

And beauty of his happier hour.

And what pure homage then did wait

On Dion's virtues, while the lunar beam

by William Wordsworth

Address To A Child During A Boisterous Winter By My Sister

WHAT way does the wind come? What way does he go?

He rides over the water, and over the snow,

Through wood, and through vale; and, o'er rocky height

Which the goat cannot climb, takes his sounding flight;

He tosses about in every bare tree,

As, if you look up, you plainly may see;

But how he will come, and whither he goes,

There's never a scholar in England knows.

by William Wordsworth

The French Revolution as it appeared to Enthusiasts

. Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!

For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood

Upon our side, we who were strong in love!

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,

But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,

In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways

Of custom, law, and statute, took at once

The attraction of a country in romance!

by William Wordsworth

To The Cuckoo

O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard,

I hear thee and rejoice.

O Cuckoo! Shall I call thee Bird,

Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass

Thy twofold shout I hear,

From hill to hill it seems to pass,

by William Wordsworth

Most Sweet it is

. Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes

To pace the ground, if path be there or none,

While a fair region round the traveller lies

Which he forbears again to look upon;

Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,

The work of Fancy, or some happy tone

Of meditation, slipping in between

The beauty coming and the beauty gone.

by William Wordsworth

With How Sad Steps, O Moon, Thou Climb'st the Sky

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the sky,

"How silently, and with how wan a face!"

Where art thou? Thou so often seen on high

Running among the clouds a Wood-nymph's race!

Unhappy Nuns, whose common breath's a sigh

Which they would stifle, move at such a pace!

The northern Wind, to call thee to the chase,

Must blow to-night his bugle horn. Had I

by William Wordsworth

Resolution And Independence

There was a roaring in the wind all night;

The rain came heavily and fell in floods;

But now the sun is rising calm and bright;

The birds are singing in the distant woods;

Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;

The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;

And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.

All things that love the sun are out of doors;

by William Wordsworth