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< Return to all Wordsworth poems Lines Written in Early Spring I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved […]

  < Return to all Wordsworth poems Goody Blake and Harry Gill Oh! what’s the matter? what’s the matter? What is’t that ails young Harry Gill? That evermore his teeth they chatter, Chatter, chatter, chatter still! Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, Good duffle grey, and flannel fine; He has a blanket on his back, […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems We are Seven —A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems A Night Piece —The sky is overcast With a continuous cloud of texture close, Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon, Which through that veil is indistinctly seen, A dull, contracted circle, yielding light So feebly spread, that not a shadow falls, Chequering the ground—from rock, plant, tree, […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems The Reverie of Poor Susan At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the Bird. ‘Tis a note […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems Lines Written While Sailing in a Boat at Evening How richly glows the water’s breast Before us, tinged with evening hues, While, facing thus the crimson west, The boat her silent course pursues! And see how dark the backward stream! A little moment past so smiling! And still, perhaps, […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Ballad of the Foxhunter “Now lay me in a cushioned chair “And carry me, you four, “With cushions here and cushions there, “To see the world once more. “And some one from the stables bring “My Dermot dear and brown, “And lead him gently in a ring, “And […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Ballad of Mol Magee Come round me, little childer; There, don’t fling stones at me Because I mutter as I go; But pity Moll Magee. My man was a poor fisher With shore lines in the say; My work was saltin’ herrings The whole of the long day. […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Ballad of Father O’Hart Good Father John O’Hart In penal days rode out To a shoneen who had free lands And his own snipe and trout. In trust took he John’s lands; Sleiveens were all his race; And he gave them as dowers to his daughters, And they […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Meditation of the Old Fisherman You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart; In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay, When I was a boy […]

< Return to All WB Yeats Down by the Salley Gardens Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. […]

< Return to All WB Yeats To an Isle in the Water Shy one, shy one, Shy one of my heart, She moves in the firelight Pensively apart. She carries in the dishes, And lays them in a row. To an isle in the water With her would I go. She carries in the candles, […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Stolen Child Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we’ve hid our faery vats, Full of berries, And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters […]

< Return to All WB Yeats Ephemera “Your eyes that once were never weary of mine “Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, “Because our love is waning.” And then she: “Although our love is waning, let us stand “By the lone border of the lake once more, “Together in that hour of gentleness “When […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Indian to his Love The island dreams under the dawn And great boughs drop tranquillity; The peahens dance on a smooth lawn, A parrot sways upon a tree, Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea. Here we will moor our lonely ship And wander ever with […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Indian Upon God I passed along the water’s edge below the humid trees, My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees, My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Cloak, the Boot, and the Shoes “What do you make so fair and bright?” “I make the cloak of Sorrow: “O, lovely to see in all men’s sight “Shall be the cloak of Sorrow, “In all men’s sight.” “What do you build with sails for flight?” “I build […]