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1 giorno fa · Should perish; and to evil and to good. Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung. Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue. That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold. Which Milton held.--In everything we are sprung. Of Earth 's first blood, have titles manifold. William Wordsworth.
4 giorni fa · To A Snowdrop. Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they. But hardier far, once more I see thee bend. Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day, Storms, sallying from the mountain -tops, waylay. The rising sun, and on the plains descend; Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend.
1 giorno fa · See the kitten on the wall, Sporting with the leaves that fall, Withered leaves---one---two---and three---. From the lofty elder-tree! Through the calm and frosty air. Of this morning bright and fair, Eddying round and round they sink. Softly, slowly: one might think,
29 mag 2024 · Decay Of Piety. Oft have I seen, ere Time had ploughed my cheek, Matrons and Sires who, punctual to the call. Of their loved Church, on fast or festival. Through the long year the house of Prayer would seek: By Christmas snows, by visitation bleak. Of Easter winds, unscared, from hut or hall.
1 giorno fa · The Childless Father. 'Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away! And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds.'. The girls on the hills made a holiday show. One Child did it bear, and that Child was his last. The horse and the horn, and the hark! hark away! With a leisurely motion the door of his hut. 'The key I must take, for my Ellen is dead.'.
1 giorno fa · And there, by fresh hopes beautified, Stood He, whose arm yet lacks the power. Of man, our youngest, fairest flower! I, by the right of eldest born, And in a second father's place, Presumed to grapple with their scorn, And meet their pity face to face; Yea, trusting in God's holy aid, I to my Father knelt and prayed;
1 giorno fa · Baffle the threat, bright Scene, from Orresthead. Given to the pausing traveler's rapturous glance: Plead for thy peace, thou beautiful romance. Of nature; and, if human hearts be dead, Speak, passing winds; ye torrents, with your strong. And constant voice, protest against the wrong.
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