The first volume of these Poems has already been submitted to general perusal. It was published, as an experiment, which, I hoped, might be of some use to ascertain, how far, by fitting to metrical ar...

Pectus enim id est quod disertos facit, et vis mentis; ideoque imperitis quoque, si modo sint aliquo affectu concitati, verba non desunt....

“Why, William, on that old gray stone, “Thus for the length of half a day, “Why, William, sit you thus alone, “And dream your time away? “Where are your books?⁠—that light bequeath’d “To beings else f...

“Why, William, on that old gray stone, “Thus for the length of half a day, “Why, William, sit you thus alone, “And dream your time away? “Where are your books?⁠—that light bequeath’d “To beings else f...

Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble? Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books, Or surely you’ll grow double. The sun, above the mountain’s head, A freshening lustre me...

The little hedge-row birds That peck along the road, regard him not. He travels on, and in his face, his step, His gait, is one expression; every limb, His look and bending figure, all bespeak A man w...

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 gray...

In distant countries I have been, And yet I have not often seen A healthy Man, a Man full grown, Weep in the public roads alone. But such a one, on English ground, And in the broad high-way, I met; Al...

Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree stands Far from all human dwelling: what if here No sparkling rivulet spread the verdant herb? What if these barren boughs the bee not loves? Yet, if the win...

But that entrance, Mother! Foster-Mother Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! Maria No one. Foster-Mother My husband’s father told it me, Poor old Leoni!⁠—Angels rest his soul! He was a woodman, an...

There is a Thorn⁠—it looks so old, In truth, you’d find it hard to say How it could ever have been young⁠— It looks so old and gray. Not higher than a two years’ child It stands erect, this aged Thorn...

There is a Thorn⁠—it looks so old, In truth, you’d find it hard to say How it could ever have been young⁠— It looks so old and gray. Not higher than a two years’ child It stands erect, this aged Thorn...

Like rock or stone, it is o’ergrown With lichens to the very top, And hung with heavy tufts of moss, A melancholy crop: Up from the earth these mosses creep, And this poor Thorn they clasp it round So...

High on a mountain’s highest ridge, Where oft the stormy winter gale Cuts like a scythe, while through the clouds It sweeps from vale to vale; Not five yards from the mountain path, This Thorn you on ...

And, close beside this aged Thorn, There is a fresh and lovely sight, A beauteous heap, a Hill of moss, Just half a foot in height. All lovely colours there you see, All colours that were ever seen; A...

Ah me! what lovely tints are there! Of olive green and scarlet bright, In spikes, in branches, and in stars, Green, red, and pearly white. This heap of earth o’ergrown with moss, Which close beside th...

Now would you see this aged Thorn, This Pond, and beauteous Hill of moss, You must take care and choose your time The mountain when to cross. For oft there sits, between the Heap That’s like an infant...

At all times of the day and night This wretched Woman thither goes; And she is known to every star, And every wind that blows; And there beside the Thorn she sits When the blue day-light’s in the skie...

“Now wherefore, thus, by day and night, In rain, in tempest, and in snow, Thus to the dreary mountaintop Does this poor Woman go? And why sits she beside the Thorn When the blue day-light’s in the sky...

I cannot tell; I wish I could; For the true reason no one knows: But if you’d gladly view the spot, The spot to which she goes; The Heap that’s like an infant’s grave, The Pond⁠—and Thorn, so old and ...

“But wherefore to the mountaintop Can this unhappy Woman go, Whatever star is in the skies, Whatever wind may blow?” Nay, rack your brain⁠—’tis all in vain, I’ll tell you every thing I know; But to th...

I’ll give you the best help I can: Before you up the mountain go, Up to the dreary mountaintop, I’ll tell you all I know. ’Tis now some two-and-twenty years Since she (her name is Martha Ray) Gave wit...

And they had fix’d the wedding-day, The morning that must wed them both; But Stephen to another Maid Had sworn another oath; And with this other Maid to church Unthinking Stephen went⁠— Poor Martha! o...

They say, full six months after this, While yet the summer leaves were green, She to the mountaintop would go, And there was often seen. ’Tis said, a child was in her womb, As now to any eye was plain...

Sad case for such a brain to hold Communion with a stirring child! Sad case, as you may think, for one Who had a brain so wild! Last Christmas when we talked of this, Old Farmer Simpson did maintain, ...

No more I know, I wish I did, And I would tell it all to you; For what became of this poor child There’s none that ever knew: And if a child was born or no, There’s no one that could ever tell; And if...

And all that winter, when at night The wind blew from the mountain-peak, ’Twas worth your while, though in the dark, The church-yard path to seek: For many a time and oft were heard Cries coming from ...

But that she goes to this old Thorn, The Thorn which I’ve described to you, And there sits in a scarlet cloak, I will be sworn is true. For one day with my telescope, To view the ocean wide and bright...

’Twas mist and rain, and storm and rain, No screen, no fence could I discover, And then the wind! in faith, it was A wind full ten times over. I looked around, I thought I saw A jutting crag, and off ...

I did not speak⁠—I saw her face, In truth it was enough for me; I turned about and heard her cry, “O misery! O misery!” And there she sits, until the moon Through half the clear blue sky will go; And,...

“But what’s the Thorn? and what’s the Pond? And what’s the Hill of moss to her? And what’s the creeping breeze that comes The little Pond to stir?” I cannot tell; but some will say She hanged her baby...

I’ve heard, the moss is spotted red With drops of that poor infant’s blood: But kill a new-born infant thus I do not think she could. Some say, if to the Pond you go, And fix on it a steady view, The ...

And some had sworn an oath that she Should be to public justice brought; And for the little infant’s bones With spades they would have sought. But then the beauteous Hill of moss Before their eyes beg...

I cannot tell how this may be: But plain it is, the Thorn is bound With heavy tufts of moss, that strive To drag it to the ground. And this I know, full many a time, When she was on the mountain high,...

A simple child, dear brother Jim, 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 hai...

I have a Boy of five years old; His face is fair and fresh to see; His limbs are cast in beauty’s mould, And dearly he loves me. One morn we stroll’d on our dry walk, Our quiet home all full in view, ...

It is the first mild day of March: Each minute sweeter than before, The Red-breast sings from the tall Larch That stands beside our door. There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to ...

My Father was a good and pious man, An honest man by honest parents bred; And I believe, that, soon as I began To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed, And in his hearing there my prayers I said: And ...

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 thro...

In the sweet shire of Cardigan, Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall, An Old Man dwells, a little man, I’ve heard he once was tall. Of years he has upon his back, No doubt, a burthen weighty; He says he is...

No cloud, no relic of the sunken day Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip Of sullen Light, no obscure trembling hues. Come, we will rest on this old mossy Bridge! You see the glimmer of the strea...

’Tis eight o’clock⁠—a clear March night, The Moon is up⁠—the Sky is blue, The Owlet in the moonlight air, He shouts from nobody knows where; He lengthens out his lonely shout, Halloo! halloo! a long h...

All Thoughts, all Passions, all Delights, Whatever stirs this mortal Frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o’er again that happy hour, When...

Her eyes are wild, her head is bare, The sun has burnt her coal-black hair, Her eye-brows have a rusty stain, And she came far from over the main. She has a baby on her arm, Or else she were alone; An...

It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three: “By thy long gray beard and thy glittering eye Now wherefore stoppest me? The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The Gues...

It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three: “By thy long gray beard and thy glittering eye Now wherefore stoppest me? The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The Gues...

“The Sun now rose upon the right, Out of the Sea came he; Still hid in mist; and on the left Went down into the Sea. And the good South wind still blew behind, But no sweet Bird did follow, Nor any da...

“So pass’d a weary time; each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye, When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist: It moved a...

“I fear thee, ancient Mariner! I fear thy skinny hand; And thou art long and lank and brown As is the ribbed Sea-sand. I fear thee and thy glittering eye And thy skinny hand so brown”⁠— “Fear not, fea...

“O sleep, it is a gentle thing Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary-queen the praise be given, She sent the gentle sleep from heaven That slid into my soul. The silly buckets on the deck That had so lon...

First Voice “ ‘But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing⁠— What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the Ocean doing?’ Second Voice ‘Still as a Slave before his Lord, The Ocea...

“This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the Sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with Mariners That come from a far countrée. He kneels at morn and noon and eve...

Five years have passed; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a sweet inland murmur.6⁠—Once again Do I behold thes...

The Knight had ridden down from Wensley moor With the slow motion of a summer’s cloud; He turned aside towards a Vassal’s door, And, “Bring another Horse!” he cried aloud. “Another Horse!”⁠—That shout...

The Knight had ridden down from Wensley moor With the slow motion of a summer’s cloud; He turned aside towards a Vassal’s door, And, “Bring another Horse!” he cried aloud. “Another Horse!”⁠—That shout...

The moving accident is not my trade: To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: ’Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song to thinking hearts. As I from Hawes to Richmond did repair,...

There was a Boy, ye knew him well, ye Cliffs And Islands of Winander! many a time, At evening, when the stars had just begun To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alo...

“These Tourists, Heaven preserve us! needs must live A profitable life: some glance along, Rapid and gay, as if the earth were air, And they were butterflies to wheel about Long as their summer lasted...

Fair Ellen Irwin, when she sate Upon the Braes of Kirtle, Was lovely as a Grecian Maid Adorned with wreaths of myrtle. Young Adam Bruce beside her lay; And there did they beguile the day With love and...

Strange fits of passion I have known: And I will dare to tell, But in the Lover’s ear alone, What once to me befell. When she I loved, was strong and gay And like a rose in June, I to her cottage bent...

She dwelt among th’ untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to love. A Violet by a mossy stone Half-hidden from the eye! —Fair as a star, when on...

“Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf,” Exclaimed a thundering Voice, “Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self Between me and my choice!” A falling Water swoln with snows Thus spake to a poor Briar-rose, Th...

His simple truths did Andrew glean Beside the babbling rills; A careful student he had been Among the woods and hills. One winter’s night, when through the Trees The wind was thundering, on his knees ...

Before I see another day, Oh let my body die away! In sleep I heard the northern gleams; The stars they were among my dreams; In sleep did I behold the skies, I saw the crackling flashes drive; And ye...

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray: And, when I crossed the Wild, I chanced to see at break of day The solitary Child. No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide Moor, —The sweetest thing that ever ...

’Tis said, that some have died for love: And here and there a church-yard grave is found In the cold North’s unhallowed ground, Because the wretched Man himself had slain, His love was such a grievous...

The valley rings with mirth and joy; Among the hills the Echoes play A never never ending song To welcome in the May. The Magpie chatters with delight; The mountain Raven’s youngling Brood Have left t...

The valley rings with mirth and joy; Among the hills the Echoes play A never never ending song To welcome in the May. The Magpie chatters with delight; The mountain Raven’s youngling Brood Have left t...

Beneath a rock, upon the grass, Two Boys are sitting in the sun; It seems they have no work to do, Or that their work is done. On pipes of sycamore they play The fragments of a Christmas Hymn; Or with...

Along the river’s stony marge The Sand-lark chants a joyous song; The Thrush is busy in the wood, And carols loud and strong. A thousand Lambs are on the rocks, All newly born! both earth and sky Keep...

Said Walter, leaping from the ground, “Down to the stump of yon old yew We’ll for our Whistles run a race.” —Away the Shepherds flew. They leapt⁠—they ran⁠—and when they came Right opposite to Dungeon...

“Now cross where I shall cross⁠—come on, And follow me where I shall lead”⁠— The other took him at his word, But did not like the deed. It was a spot, which you may see If ever you to Langdale go: Int...

With staff in hand across the cleft The Challenger began his march; And now, all eyes and feet, hath gained The middle of the arch. When list! he hears a piteous moan⁠— Again!⁠—his heart within him di...

The Lamb had slipped into the stream, And safe without a bruise or wound The Cataract had borne him down Into the gulf profound. His Dam had seen him when he fell, She saw him down the torrent borne; ...

When he had learnt what thing it was, That sent this rueful cry; I ween, The Boy recovered heart, and told The sight which he had seen. Both gladly now deferred their task; Nor was there wanting other...

He drew it gently from the pool, And brought it forth into the light: The Shepherds met him with his Charge, An unexpected sight! Into their arms the Lamb they took, Said they, “He’s neither maimed no...

At the corner of Wood-street, when day-light appears, There’s 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...

If Thou in the dear love of some one Friend Hast been so happy, that thou know’st what thoughts Will, sometimes, in the happiness of love Make the heart sick, then wilt thou reverence This quiet spot....

Rude is this Edifice, and Thou hast seen Buildings, albeit rude, that have maintained Proportions more harmonious, and approached To somewhat of a closer fellowship With the ideal grace. Yet as it is ...

Let thy wheel-barrow alone. Wherefore, Sexton, piling still In thy Bone-house bone on bone? ’Tis already like a hill In a field of battle made, Where three thousand skulls are laid. —These died in pea...

“I hate that Andrew Jones: he’ll breed His children up to waste and pillage. I wish the press-gang or the drum With its tantara sound, would come And sweep him from the village!” I said not this, beca...

When Ruth was left half desolate Her Father took another Mate; And Ruth, not seven years old, A slighted Child, at her own will Went wandering over dale and hill, In thoughtless freedom bold. And she ...

Stranger! this hillock of misshapen stones Is not a ruin of the ancient time, Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem’st, the Cairn Of some old British Chief: ’tis nothing more Than the rude embryo of a li...

If Nature, for a favourite Child In thee hath tempered so her clay, That every hour thy heart runs wild, Yet never once doth go astray, Read o’er these lines; and then review This tablet, that thus hu...

We walked along, while bright and red Uprose the morning sun; And Matthew stopped, he looked, and said, “The will of God be done!” A village Schoolmaster was he, With hair of glittering gray; As blith...

We talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true; A pair of Friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two. We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat; And from the turf a fo...

⸻⁠⸻⁠⸻⁠⸺⁠It seems a day, (I speak of one from many singled out) One of those heavenly days which cannot die, When forth I sallied from our Cottage-door,19 And with a wallet o’er my shoulder slung, A nu...

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 A Lady of my own. “Myself wil...

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; I heard a voice; it said, “Drink, pretty Creature, drink!” And, looking o’er the hedge, before me I espied A snow-white mountain Lamb with a Maiden ...

A fig for your languages, German and Norse! Let me have the song of the Kettle; And the tongs and the poker, instead of that Horse That gallops away with such fury and force On this dreary dull plate ...

“Up, Timothy, up with your Staff and away! Not a soul in the village this morning will stay; The Hare has just started from Hamilton’s grounds, And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds.” —Of coa...

I saw an aged beggar in my walk, And he was seated by the highway side On a low structure of rude masonry Built at the foot of a huge hill, that they Who lead their horses down the steep rough road Ma...

There’s George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore, Three rosy-cheeked School-boys, the highest not more Than the height of a Counsellor’s bag; To the top of Great How21 did it please them to ...

Art thou a Statesman, in the van Of public business trained and bred? —First learn to love one living man; Then mayst thou think upon the dead. A Lawyer art thou?⁠—draw not nigh; Go, carry to some oth...

Between two sister moorland rills There is a spot that seems to lie Sacred to flowrets of the hills, And sacred to the sky. And in this smooth and open dell There is a tempest-stricken tree; A corner-...

By Persons resident in the country and attached to rural objects, many places will be found unnamed or of unknown names, where little Incidents will have occurred, or feelings been experienced, which ...

By Persons resident in the country and attached to rural objects, many places will be found unnamed or of unknown names, where little Incidents will have occurred, or feelings been experienced, which ...

It was an April morning: fresh and clear The Rivulet, delighting in its strength, Ran with a young man’s speed; and yet the voice Of waters which the winter had supplied Was softened down into a verna...

Amid the smoke of cities did you pass Your time of early youth; and there you learned, From years of quiet industry, to love The living Beings by your own fire-side, With such a strong devotion, that ...

There is an Eminence⁠—of these our hills The last that parleys with the setting sun. We can behold it from our Orchard-seat; And, when at evening we pursue our walk Along the public way, this Cliff, s...

A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags, A rude and natural causeway, interpos’d Between the water and a winding slope Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore Of Grasmere safe in its own priv...

Our walk was far among the ancient trees; There was no road, nor any wood-man’s path; But the thick umbrage, checking the wild growth Of weed and sapling, on the soft green turf Beneath the branches o...

How rich the wave, in front, imprest With evening twilight’s summer hues, While, facing thus the crimson west, The Boat her silent course pursues! And see how dark the backward stream! A little moment...

Glide gently, thus for ever glide, O Thames! that other Bards may see As lovely visions by thy side As now, fair River! come to me. Oh glide, fair Stream! for ever so, Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,...

Oh now that the genius of Bewick were mine, And the skill which he learned on the Banks of the Tyne! Then the Muses might deal with me just as they chose, For I’d take my last leave both of verse and ...

A whirl-blast from behind the hill Rushed o’er the wood with startling sound: Then all at once the air was still, And showers of hail-stones pattered round. Where leafless Oaks towered high above, I s...

Though the torrents from their fountains Roar down many a craggy steep, Yet they find among the mountains Resting-places calm and deep. Though almost with eagle pinion O’er the rocks the Chamois roam,...

If from the public way you turn your steps Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Gill, You will suppose that with an upright path Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent The pastoral Mountains fr...

As perhaps I have no right to expect from a Reader of an introduction to a volume of Poems that attentive perusal without which it is impossible, imperfectly as I have been compelled to express my mea...

It is worth while here to observe that the affecting parts of Chaucer are almost always expressed in language pure and universally intelligible even to this day. ↩ I here use the word “poetry” (though...