WITH SHIPS THE SEA WAS SPRINKLED WITH Ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh, Come like a giant from a haven broad; This ship to all the rest did I prefer: When will she turn, and whither? She will brook No tarrying; where she comes the winds must stir: On went she-and due north her journey took. THE WORLD THE World is too much with us; late and soon, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPT. 3, 1802 EARTH has not anything to show more fair: This city now doth like a garment wear All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. WHEN I HAVE BORNE IN MEMORY WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed Verily, in the bottom of my heart Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. For dearly must we prize thee; we do find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men ; THREE YEARS SHE GREW 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 'Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse; and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain. 'She shall be sportive as the fawn, And hers shall be the breathing balm, Of mute insensate things. 'The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Ev'n in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. 'The stars of midnight shall be dear To her, and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place, Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound 'And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give While she and I together live Here in this happy dell.' Thus Nature spake. The work was done How soon my Lucy's race was run! She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene: The memory of what has been, And never more will be. THE DAFFODILS I WANDERED lonely as a cloud A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they In such a jocund company! I gazed-and gazed-but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought; For oft when on my couch I lie THE SOLITARY REAPER BEHOLD her, single in the field, |