Browsing Tag

William Wordsworth

Travelling

This is the spot:—how mildly does the sunShine in between the fading leaves! the airIn the habitual silence of this woodIs more than silent: and this bed of heath,Where shall we find so sweet a resting-place?Come!—let me see thee sink into
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Perfect Woman

She was a phantom of delightWhen first she gleam'd upon my sight;A lovely apparition, sentTo be a moment's ornament;Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;But all things else about her drawnFrom May-time
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