Strength poems/ page 1 of 186 /
When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes,
In colour black why wrapt she beams so bright?
ABSENCE hear thou my protestation
Against thy strength
Distance and length:
Do what thou canst for alteration
For hearts of truest mettle 5
Absence doth join and Time doth settle.
And is this--Yarrow?--This the streamOf which my fancy cherished,So faithfully, a waking dream?An image that hath perished!O that some Minstrel's harp were near,To utter notes of gladness,And chase this silence from the air,That fills my heart with sadness!
Yet why?--a silvery current flowsWith uncontrolled meanderings;Nor have these eyes by greener hillsBeen soothed, in all my wanderings
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.--The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:--
Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchUnvisited, endeavour'd to retraceMy life through its first years, and measured backThe way I travell'd when I first beganTo love the woods and fields; the passion yetWas in its birth, sustain'd, as might befal,By nourishment that came unsought, for still,From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dA round of tumult: duly were our gamesProlong'd in summer till the day-light fail'd;No chair remain'd before the doors, the benchAnd threshold steps were empty; fast asleepThe Labourer, and the old Man who had sate,A later lingerer, yet the revelryContinued, and the loud uproar: at last,When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudsWere edged with twinkling stars, to bed we went,With weary joints, and with a beating mind
The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")
Influence of Natural Objects in Calling Forth and Strengthening the Imagination in Boyhood and Early Youth
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!And giv'st to forms and images a breathAnd everlasting motion! not in vain,By day or star-light, thus from my first dawnOf childhood didst thou intertwine for meThe passions that build up our human soul;Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man;But with high objects, with enduring things,With life and nature; purifying thusThe elements of feeling and of thought,And sanctifying by such disciplineBoth pain and fear,--until we recogniseA grandeur in the beatings of the heart