The Collected Poems of Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

Description

This inspiring collection of poetry presents many of William Wordsworth’s most-loved works. The classic poems explore both nature’s beauty and the charm of everyday life in a beautiful new edition.

This wonderful collection of Wordsworth’s best poetry allows the reader insight into the poet’s mind as his lyrical poetry explores his relationships with friends, family, God and his own self, with themes of nature, humanity, mortality, childhood and religion.

Wordsworth’s work helped to usher in the Romantic Age in English literature, most notably the Lyrical Ballads collection - written in collaboration by Wordsworth and his friend, Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

This beautiful collection features all of the poems from Lyrical Ballads, as well as Poems, In Two Volumes, 1807, and other assorted poems such as:

- ‘To a Butterfly’

- ‘Star Gazers’

- ‘Power of Music’

- ‘To the Daisy’

- ‘A Complaint’

From the specialist poetry imprint, Ragged Hand, this wonderful volume would make the perfect gift for fans of Romantic poetry or collectors of the poet laureate’s work.

- William Wordsworth

- Poems. Composed During a Tour, Chiefly on Foot.

- Sonnets

- Part the First. Miscellaneous Sonnets

- Part the Second. Sonnets Dedicated to Liberty

- Poems. Written During a Tour of Scotland

- Moods of My Own Mind

- The Blind Highland Boy with Other Poems

- Ode

Sujets

• Religion
• Scottish
• Welsh
• European
• Poetry
• English
• Irish

Informations

• Publié par: Read Books Ltd.
• Date de parution: 20 février 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528789356
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

POEMS
THE COLLECTED POEMS OF WORDSWORTH
By
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

First published in 1807


Copyright © 2020 Ragged Hand
This edition is published by Ragged Hand, an imprint of Read & Co.
This book is copyright and may not be reproduced or copied in any way without the express permission of the publisher in writing.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Read & Co. is part of Read Books Ltd. For more information visit www.readandcobooks.co.uk


Posterius graviore sono tibi Musa loquetur Nostra: dabunt cum securos mihi tempora fructus.


Contents
William Wordsworth
POEMS.
TO THE DAISY.
LOUISA.
FIDELITY.
SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT.
THE REDBREAST AND THE BUTTERFLY.
THE SAILOR'S MOTHER.
TO THE SMALL CELANDINE
TO THE SAME FLOWER.
CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR.
THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE.
THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET — OF —
THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES.
THE SEVEN SISTERS.
OR, THE SOLITUDE OF BINNORIE.
TO H. C., SIX YEARS OLD.
AMONG ALL LOVELY THINGS MY LOVE HAD BEEN
I TRAVELL'D AMONG UNKNOWN MEN
ODE TO DUTY.
POEMS.
COMPOSED DURING A TOUR, CHIEFLY ON FOOT.
1. BEGGARS.
2. TO A SKY-LARK.
3. WITH HOW SAD STEPS, O MOON, THOU CLIMB'ST THE SKY
4. ALICE FELL.
5. RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE.
SONNETS.
PREFATORY SONNET.
PART THE FIRST.
MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5. TO SLEEP.
6. TO SLEEP.
7. TO SLEEP.
8.
9. TO THE RIVER DUDDON.
10. FROM THE ITALIAN OF MICHAEL ANGELO.
11. FROM THE SAME.
12. FROM THE SAME.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17. TO THE —.
18.
19.
20. TO THE MEMORY OF RAISLEY CALVERT.
PART THE SECOND.
SONNETS DEDICATED TO LIBERTY.
1.
2.
3. TO A FRIEND
4.
5.
6. ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC.
7. THE KING OF SWEDEN.
8. TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE.
9.
10.
11.
12. THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23. TO THE MEN OF KENT.
24.
25. ANTICIPATION.
26.
POEMS.
WRITTEN DURING A TOUR IN SCOTLAND.
1. ROB ROY'S GRAVE.
2. THE SOLITARY REAPER.
3. STEPPING WESTWARD.
4. GLEN-ALMAIN, OR THE NARROW GLEN
5. THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND.
6. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.
7. SONNET.
8. ADDRESS TO THE SONS OF BURNS
9. YARROW UNVISITED.
MOODS OF MY OWN MIND.
1. TO A BUTTERFLY.
2.
3.
4.
5. WRITTEN IN MARCH.
6. THE SMALL CELANDINE.
7.
8.
9. THE SPARROW'S NEST.
10. GIPSIES.
11. TO THE CUCKOO.
12. TO A BUTTERFLY.
13.
THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY
WITH OTHER POEMS.
THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRE-SIDE.
THE GREEN LINNET.
TO A YOUNG LADY, WHO HAD BEEN REPROACHED FOR TAKING LONG WALKS IN THE COUNTRY.
BY THEIR FLOATING MILL
STAR GAZERS.
POWER OF MUSIC.
TO THE DAISY.
TO THE SAME FLOWER.
INCIDENT. CHARACTERISTIC OF A FAVOURITE DOG.
TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG.
SONNET. ADMONITION
SONNET.
SONNET. A PROPHECY.
SONNET TO THOMAS CLARKSON
ONCE IN A LONELY HAMLET I SOJOURN'D
FORESIGHT. OR, THE CHARGE OF A CHILD TO HIS YOUNGER COMPANION.
A COMPLAINT.
I AM NOT ONE WHO MUCH OR OFT DELIGHT
YES! FULL SURELY 'TWAS THE ECHO.
TO THE SPADE OF A FRIEND
AN AGRICULTURIST.
SONG. AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE
LINES
ELEGIAC STANZAS
ODE.
ODE.


William Wordsworth
“Mr. Wordsworth . . . had a dignified manner, with a deep and roughish but not unpleasing voice, and an exalted mode of speaking. He had a habit of keeping his left hand in the bosom of his waistcoat; and in this attitude, except when he turned round to take one of the subjects of his criticism from the shelves (for his contemporaries were there also), he sat dealing forth his eloquent but hardly catholic judgments. . . . Walter Scott said that the eyes of Burns were the finest he ever saw. I cannot say the same of Mr. Wordsworth; that is, not in the sense of the beautiful, or even of the profound. But certainly I never beheld eyes which looked so inspired and supernatural. They were like fires half burning, half smouldering with a sort of acrid fixture of regard, and seated at the further end of two caverns. One might imagine Ezekiel or Isaiah to have had such eyes. The finest eyes, in every sense of the word, which I have ever seen in a man’s head (and I have seen many fine ones), are those of Thomas Carlyle.”—1815.
An Excerpt from The Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, 1850 By Leigh Hunt
“. . . He (Wordsworth) talked well in his way; with veracity, easy brevity, and force, as a wise tradesman would of his tools and workshop,—and as no unwise one could. His voice was good, frank, and sonorous, though practically clear, distinct, and forcible, rather than melodious; the tone of him business-like, sedately confident; no discourtesy, yet no anxiety about being courteous.
A fine wholesome rusticity, fresh as his mountain breezes, sat well on the stalwart veteran, and on all he said and did. You would have said he was a usually taciturn man; glad to unlock himself to audience sympathetic and intelligent when such offered itself.
His face bore marks of much, not always peaceful, meditation; the look of it not bland or benevolent so much as close, impregnable, and hard: a man multa tacere loquive paratus , in a world where he had experienced no lack of contradictions as he strode along! The eyes were not very brilliant, but they had a quiet clearness; there was enough of brow, and well-shaped; rather too much of cheek (‘horse face’ I have heard satirists say); face of squarish shape, and decidedly longish, as I think the head itself was (its ‘length’ going horizontal); he was large-boned, lean, but still firm-knit, tall, and strong-looking when he stood, a right good old steel-gray figure, with rustic simplicity and dignity about him, and a vivacious strength looking through him which might have suited one of those old steel-gray markgrafs whom Henry the Fowler set up to ward the ‘marches’ and do battle with the heathen in a stalwart and judicious manner.”
An Excerpt from Reminiscences , 1881 by Thomas Carlyle
“His features were large, and not suddenly expressive; they conveyed little idea of the ‘poetic fire’ usually associated with brilliant imagination. His eyes were mild and up-looking, his mouth coarse rather than refined, his forehead high rather than broad; but every action seemed considerate, and every look self-possessed, while his voice, low in tone, had that persuasive eloquence which invariably ‘moves men.’”—1832.
An Excerpt from Memories of Great Men. . . , 1871 by Anna Maria Hall


POEMS.


TO THE DAISY.
In youth from rock to rock I went
From hill to hill, in discontent
Of pleasure high and turbulent,
Most pleas'd when most uneasy;
But now my own delights I make,
My thirst at every rill can slake,
And gladly Nature's love partake
Of thee, sweet Daisy!

When soothed a while by milder airs,
Thee Winter in the garland wears
That thinly shades his few grey hairs;
Spring cannot shun thee;
Whole summer fields are thine by right;
And Autumn, melancholy Wight!
Doth in thy crimson head delight
When rains are on thee.

In shoals and bands, a morrice train,
Thou greet'st the Traveller in the lane;
If welcome once thou count'st it gain;
Thou art not daunted,
Nor car'st if thou be set at naught;
And oft alone in nooks remote
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
When such are wanted.

Be Violets in their secret mews
The flowers the wanton Zephyrs chuse;
Proud be the Rose, with rains and dews
Her head impearling;
Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim,
Yet hast not gone without thy fame;
Thou art indeed by many a claim
The Poet's darling.

If to a rock from rains he fly,
Or, some bright day of April sky,
Imprison'd by hot sunshine lie
Near the green holly,
And wearily at length should fare;
He need but look about, and there
Thou art! a Friend at hand, to scare
His melancholy.

A hundred times, by rock or bower,
Ere thus I have lain couch'd an hour,
Have I derived from thy sweet power
Some apprehension;
Some steady love; some brief delight;
Some memory that had taken flight;
Some chime of fancy wrong or right;
Or stray invention.

If stately passions in me burn,
And one chance look to Thee should turn,
I drink out of an humbler urn
A lowlier pleasure;
The homely sympathy that heeds
The common life, our nature breeds;
A wisdom fitted to the needs
Of hearts at leisure.

When, smitten by the morning ray,
I see thee rise alert and gay,
Then, chearful Flower! my spirits play
With kindred motion:
At dusk, I've seldom mark'd thee press
The ground, as if in thankfulness,
Without some feeling, more or less,
Of true devotion.

And all day long I number yet,
All seasons through, another debt,
Which I wherever thou art met,
To thee am owing;
An instinct call it, a blind sense;
A happy, genial influence,
Coming one knows not how nor whence,
Nor whither going.

Child of the Year! that round dost run
Thy course, bold lover of the sun,
And chearful when the day's begun
As morning Leveret,