Part ii
._
Plain living and high thinking are no more. The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
_O Friend! I know not which way I must look._
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
_London, 1802._
We must be free or die who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake, the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.
_It is not to be thought of._
A noticeable man, with large gray eyes.
_Stanzas written in Thomson's Castle of Indolence._
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
_To the Daisy._
The poet's darling.
_To the Daisy._
Thou unassuming commonplace Of Nature.
_To the same Flower._
Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees.
_To the same Flower._
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.
_Thoughts suggested on the Banks of the Nith._
The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!
_Thoughts suggested on the Banks of the Nith._
For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago.
_The Solitary Reaper._
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.
_The Solitary Reaper._
The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more.
_The Solitary Reaper._
Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice; Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye, Frozen by distance.
_Address to Kilchurn Castle._
A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.
_Rob Roy's Grave._
Because the good old rule Sufficeth them,--the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.
_Rob Roy's Grave._
The Eagle, he was lord above, And Rob was lord below.
_Rob Roy's Grave._
A brotherhood of venerable trees.
_Sonnet composed at ---- Castle._
Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
_Yarrow Unvisited._
Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.
_These Times strike Monied Worldlings._
A remnant of uneasy light.
_The Matron of Jedborough._
Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave![474-1]
_Sonnet, in the Pass of Killicranky._
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
_To the Cuckoo._
She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, Like twilights too her dusky hair, But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
_She was a Phantom of Delight._
A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
_She was a Phantom of Delight._
The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command.
_She was a Phantom of Delight._
That inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude.
_I wandered lonely._
To be a Prodigal's favourite,--then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,--behold our lot!
_The Small Celandine._
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God![475-1]
_Ode to Duty._
A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
_Ode to Duty._
Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!
_Ode to Duty._
The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream.
_Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm. Stanza 4._
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
_To a Young Lady. Dear Child of Nature._
But an old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave.
_To a Young Lady. Dear Child of Nature._
Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.
_The Prelude. Book iii ._
Another morn Risen on mid-noon.[476-1]
_The Prelude. Book vi ._
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven!
_The Prelude. Book xi ._
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
_The Prelude. Book xi ._
There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
_The Prelude.