The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 540 pages of information about The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1.

  “But ill they suited me—­those journeys dark [60] 415
  O’er moor and mountain, midnight theft to hatch! 
  To charm the surly house-dog’s faithful bark,
  Or hang on tip-toe at the lifted latch. 
  The gloomy lantern, and the dim blue match. 
  The black disguise, the warning whistle shrill, 420
  And ear still busy on its nightly watch,
  Were not for me, brought up in nothing ill: 
  Besides, on griefs so fresh my thoughts were brooding still.

XLVIII

  “What could I do, unaided and unblest? 
  My [61] father! gone was every friend of thine:  425
  And kindred of dead husband are at best
  Small help; and, after marriage such as mine,
  With little kindness would to me incline. 
  Nor was I [62] then for toil or service fit;
  My deep-drawn sighs no effort could confine; 430
  In open air forgetful would I sit [63]
  Whole hours, with [64] idle arms in moping sorrow knit.

XLIX

  “The roads I paced, I loitered through the fields;
  Contentedly, yet sometimes self-accused,
  Trusted my life to what chance bounty yields, [65] 435
  Now coldly given, now utterly refused. 
  The ground [66] I for my bed have often used: 
  But what afflicts my peace with keenest ruth,
  Is that I have my inner self abused,
  Forgone the home delight of constant truth, 440
  And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth.

L

  “Through tears the rising sun I oft have viewed,
  Through tears have seen him towards that world descend [67]
  Where my poor heart lost all its fortitude: 
  Three years a wanderer now my course I bend—­[68] 445
  Oh! tell me whither—­for no earthly friend
  Have I.”—­She ceased, and weeping turned away;
  As if because her tale was at an end,
  She wept; because she had no more to say
  Of that perpetual weight which on her spirit lay. 450

LI

  True sympathy the Sailor’s looks expressed,
  His looks—­for pondering he was mute the while. 
  Of social Order’s care for wretchedness,
  Of Time’s sure help to calm and reconcile,
  Joy’s second spring and Hope’s long-treasured smile, 455
  ’Twas not for him to speak—­a man so tried. 
  Yet, to relieve her heart, in friendly style
  Proverbial words of comfort he applied,
  And not in vain, while they went pacing side by side.

LII

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The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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