加载中…【华兹华斯】
(2013-04-20 11:59:56)
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The Rainbow
- MY heart leaps up when I behold
- A rainbow in the sky:
- So was it when my life began;
- So is it now I am a man;
- So be it when I shall grow old,
- Or let me die!
- The Child is father of the Man;
- And I could wish my day to be
- Bound each to each by natural piety.
- William Wordsworth
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- I
TRAVELLED among unknown men, - In lands beyond the sea;
- Nor, England! did I know till then
- What love I bore to thee.
- 'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
- Nor will I quit thy shore
- A second time; for still I seem
- To love thee more and more.
- Among thy mountains did I feel
- The joy of my desire;
- And she I cherished turned her wheel
- Beside an English fire.
- Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed,
- The bowers where Lucy played;
- And thine too is the last green field
- That Lucy's eyes surveyed.
- William Wordsworth
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- I
WANDERED lonely as a cloud - That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
- When all at once I saw a crowd,
- A host, of golden daffodils;
- Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
- Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
- Continuous as the stars that shine
- And twinkle on the milky way,
- The stretched in never-ending line
- Along the margin of a bay:
- Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
- Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
- The waves beside them danced; but they
- Outdid the sparkling waves in glee;
- A poet could not but be gay,
- In such a jocund company;
- I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
- What wealth to me the show had brought:
- For oft, when on my couch I lie
- In vacant or in pensive mood,
- They flash upon that inward eye
- Which is the bliss of solitude;
- And then my heart with pleasure fills,
- And dances with the daffodils.
- William Wordsworth
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- LET us quit the leafy arbor,
- And the torrent murmuring by;
- For the sun is in his harbor,
- Weary of the open sky.
- Evening now unbinds the fetters
- Fashioned by the glowing light;
- All that breathe are thankful debtors
- To the harbinger of night.
- Yet by some grave thoughts attended
- Eve renews her calm career;
- For the day that now is ended,
- Is the longest of the year.
- Dora! sport, as now thou sportest,
- On this platform, light and free;
- Take thy bliss, while longest, shortest,
- Are indifferent to thee!
- Who would check the happy feeling
- That inspires the linnet's song?
- Who would stop the swallow, wheeling
- On her pinions swift and strong?
- Yet at this impressive season,
- Words which tenderness can speak
- From the truths of homely reason,
- Might exalt the loveliest cheek;
- And, while shades to shades succeeding
- Steal the landscape from the sight,
- I would urge this moral pleading,
- Last forerunner of "Good night!"
- Summer ebbs; -- each day that follows
- Is a reflux from on high,
- Tending to the darksome hollows
- Where the frosts of winter lie.
- He who governs the creation,
- In his providence, assigned
- Such a gradual declination
- To the life of human kind.
- Yet we mark it not; -- fruits redden,
- Fresh flowers blow, as flowers have blown,
- And the heart is loth to deaden
- Hopes that she so long hath known.
- Be thou wiser, youthful Maiden!
- And when thy decline shall come,
- Let not dowers, or boughs fruit-laden,
- Hide the knowledge of thy doom.
- Now, even now, ere wrapped in slumber,
- Fix thine eyes upon the sea
- That absorbs time, space, and number;
- Look thou to Eternity!
- Follow thou the flowing river
- On whose breast are thither borne
- All deceived, and each deceiver,
- Through the gates of night and morn;
- Through the year's successive portals;
- Through the bounds which many a star
- Marks, not mindless of frail mortals,
- When his light returns from far.
- Thus when thou with Time hast travelled
- Toward the mighty gulf of things,
- And the mazy stream unravelled
- With thy best imaginings;
- Think, if thou on beauty leanest,
- Think how pitiful that stay,
- Did not virtue give the meanest
- Charms superior to decay.
- Duty, like a strict preceptor,
- Sometimes frowns, or seems to frown;
- Choose her thistle for thy sceptre,
- While youth's roses are thy crown.
- Grasp it, -- if thou shrink and tremble,
- Fairest damsel of the green,
- Thou wilt lack the only symbol
- That proclaims a genuine queen;
- And ensures those palms of honor
- Which selected spirits wear,
- Bending low before the Donor,
- Lord of heaven's unchanging year!
- William Wordsworth
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- IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
- The holy time is quiet as a nun
- Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
- Is sinking down in its tranquility;
- The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea:
- Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
- And doth with his eternal motion make
- A sound like thunder - everlastingly.
- Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
- If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,
- Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
- Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year,
- And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
- God being with thee when we know it not.
- William Wordsworth
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- 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 Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
- But all things else about her drawn
- From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
- A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
- To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
- I saw her upon a nearer view,
- A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
- Her household motions light and free,
- And steps of virgin liberty;
- A countenance in which did meet
- Sweet records, promises as sweet;
- 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.
- And now I see with eye serene
- The very pulse of the machine;
- A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
- A Traveler between life and death;
- The reason firm, the temperate will,
- Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
- A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
- To warm, to comfort, and command;
- And yet a Spirit still, and bright,
- With something of angelic light.
- William Wordsworth
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-
THE cock is crowing, -
The stream is flowing, -
The small birds twitter, -
The lake doth glitter - The green field sleeps in the sun;
-
The oldest and youngest -
Are at work with the strongest; -
The cattle are grazing, -
Their heads never raising; - There are forty feeding like one!
-
Like an army defeated -
The snow hath retreated, -
And now doth fare ill -
On the top of the bare hill; - The plowboy is whooping- anon-anon:
-
There's joy in the mountains; -
There's life in the fountains; -
Small clouds are sailing, -
Blue sky prevailing; - The rain is over and gone!
- William Wordsworth
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- from
Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803 - BEHOLD her, single in the field,
- Yon solitary Highland Lass!
- Reaping and singing by herself;
- Stop here, or gently pass!
- Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
- And sings a melancholy strain;
- O listen! for the Vale profound
- Is overflowing with the sound.
- No Nightingale did ever chaunt
- More welcome notes to weary bands
- Of travellers in some shady haunt,
- Among Arabian sands:
- A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
- In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
- Breaking the silence of the seas
- Among the farthest Hebrides.
- Will no one tell me what she sings?--
- Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
- For old, unhappy, far-off things,
- And battles long ago:
- Or is it some more humble lay,
- Familiar matter of to-day?
- Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
- That has been, and may be again?
- Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
- As if her song could have no ending;
- I saw her singing at her work,
- And o'er the sickle bending;--
- I listened, motionless and still;
- And, as I mounted up the hill
- The music in my heart I bore,
- Long after it was heard no more.
- William Wordsworth
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- 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 through me ran;
- And much it grieved my heart to think
- What man has made of man.
- Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
- The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
- And 'tis my faith that every flower
- Enjoys the air it breathes.
- The birds around me hopped and played,
- Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
- But the least motion which they made
- It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
- The budding twigs spread out their fan,
- To catch the breezy air;
- And I must think, do all I can,
- That there was pleasure there.
- If this belief from heaven be sent,
- If such be Nature's holy plan,
- Have I not reason to lament
- What man has made of man?
- William Wordsworth
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- I
KNOW an aged Man constrained to dwell - In a large house of public charity,
- Where he abides, as in a Prisoner's cell,
- With numbers near, alas! no company.
- When he could creep about, at will, though poor
- And forced to live on alms, this old Man fed
- A Redbreast, one that to his cottage door
- Came not, but in a lane partook his bread.
- There, at the root of one particular tree,
- An easy seat this worn-out Labourer found
- While Robin pecked the crumbs upon his knee
- Laid one by one, or scattered on the ground.
- Dear intercourse was theirs, day after day;
- What signs of mutual gladness when they met!
- Think of their common peace, their simple play,
- The parting moment and its fond regret.
- Months passed in love that failed not to fulfil,
- In spite of season's change, its own demand,
- By fluttering pinions here and busy bill;
- There by caresses from a tremulous hand.
- Thus in the chosen spot a tie so strong
- Was formed between the solitary pair,
- That when his fate had housed him 'mid a throng
- The Captive shunned all converse proffered there.
- Wife, children, kindred, they were dead and gone;
- But, if no evil hap his wishes crossed,
- One living Stay was left, and on that one
- Some recompence for all that he had lost.
- Oh that the good old Man had power to prove,
- By message sent through air or visible token,
- That still he loves the Bird, and still must love;
- That friendship lasts though fellowship is broken!
- William Wordsworth, (1846)
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- MILTON! thou should'st be living at this hour:
- England hath need of thee: she is a fen
- Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
- Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
- Have forfeited their ancient English dower
- Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
- Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
- And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
- Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart:
- Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
- Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
- So didst thou travel on life's common way,
- In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
- The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
- William Wordsworth
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- September 3, 1802
- EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
- Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
- A sight so touching in its majesty:
- This City now doth, like a garment, wear
- The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
- Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
- Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
- All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
- Never did sun more beautifully steep
- In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
- Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
- The river glideth at his own sweet will:
- Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
- And all that mighty heart is lying still!
- William Wordsworth
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- THE sun has long been set,
- The stars are out by twos and threes,
- The little birds are piping yet
- Among the bushes and trees;
- There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,
- And a far-off wind that rushes,
- And a sound of water that gushes,
- And the cuckoo's sovereign cry
- Fills all the hollow of the sky.
- Who would "go parading"
- In London, "and masquerading,"
- On such a night of June
- With that beautiful soft half-moon,
- And all these innocent blisses?
- On such a night as this is!
- William Wordsworth
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- A
PEN--to register; a key-- - That winds through secret wards
- Are well assigned to Memory
- By allegoric Bards.
- As aptly, also, might be given
- A Pencil to her hand;
- That, softening objects, sometimes even
- Outstrips the heart's demand;
- That smooths foregone distress, the lines
- Of lingering care subdues,
- Long-vanished happiness refines,
- And clothes in brighter hues;
- Yet, like a tool of Fancy, works
- Those Spectres to dilate
- That startle Conscience, as she lurks
- Within her lonely seat.
- Oh! that our lives, which flee so fast,
- In purity were such,
- That not an image of the past
- Should fear that pencil's touch!
- Retirement then might hourly look
- Upon a soothing scene,
- Age steal to his allotted nook
- Contented and serene;
- With heart as calm as lakes that sleep,
- In frosty moonlight glistening;
- Or mountain rivers, where they creep
- Along a channel smooth and deep,
- To their own far-off murmurs listening.
- William Wordsworth, (1823)
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- THE sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest,
- And the wild storm hath somewhere found a nest;
- Air slumbers--wave with wave no longer strives,
- Only a heaving of the deep survives,
- A tell-tale motion! soon will it be laid,
- And by the tide alone the water swayed.
- Stealthy withdrawings, interminglings mild
- Of light with shade in beauty reconciled--
- Such is the prospect far as sight can range,
- The soothing recompence, the welcome change.
- Where, now, the ships that drove before the blast,
- Threatened by angry breakers as they passed;
- And by a train of flying clouds bemocked;
- Or, in the hollow surge, at anchor rocked
- As on a bed of death? Some lodge in peace,
- Saved by His care who bade the tempest cease;
- And some, too heedless of past danger, court
- Fresh gales to waft them to the far-off port
- But near, or hanging sea and sky between,
- Not one of all those winged powers is seen,
- Seen in her course, nor 'mid this quiet heard;
- Yet oh! how gladly would the air be stirred
- By some acknowledgment of thanks and praise,
- Soft in its temper as those vesper lays
- Sung to the Virgin while accordant oars
- Urge the slow bark along Calabrian shores;
- A sea-born service through the mountains felt
- Till into one loved vision all things melt:
- Or like those hymns that soothe with graver sound
- The gulfy coast of Norway iron-bound;
- And, from the wide and open Baltic, rise
- With punctual care, Lutherian harmonies.
- Hush, not a voice is here! but why repine,
- Now when the star of eve comes forth to shine
- On British waters with that look benign?
- Ye mariners, that plough your onward way,
- Or in the haven rest, or sheltering bay,
- May silent thanks at least to God be given
- With a full heart; "our thoughts are 'heard' in heaven."
- William Wordsworth, (1833)
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- THE power of Armies is a visible thing,
- Formal, and circumscribed in time and space;
- But who the limits of that power shall trace
- Which a brave People into light can bring
- Or hide, at will,--for freedom combating
- By just revenge inflamed? No foot may chase,
- No eye can follow, to a fatal place
- That power, that spirit, whether on the wing
- Like the strong wind, or sleeping like the wind
- Within its awful caves.--From year to year
- Springs this indigenous produce far and near;
- No craft this subtle element can bind,
- Rising like water from the soil, to find
- In every nook a lip that it may cheer.
- William Wordsworth
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- ONE who was suffering tumult in his soul,
- Yet failed to seek the sure relief of prayer,
- Went forth--his course surrendering to the care
- Of the fierce wind, while mid-day lightnings prowl
- Insidiously, untimely thunders growl;
- While trees, dim-seen, in frenzied numbers, tear
- The lingering remnant of their yellow hair,
- And shivering wolves, surprised with darkness, howl
- As if the sun were not. He raised his eye
- Soul-smitten; for, that instant, did appear
- Large space ('mid dreadful clouds) of purest sky,
- An azure disc--shield of Tranquillity;
- Invisible, unlooked-for, minister
- Of providential goodness ever nigh!
- William Wordsworth, (1819)
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- THE Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said,
- "Bright is thy veil, O Moon, as thou art bright!"
- Forthwith, that little cloud, in ether spread
- And penetrated all with tender light,
- She cast away, and showed her fulgent head
- Uncovered; dazzling the Beholder's sight
- As if to vindicate her beauty's right
- Her beauty thoughtlessly disparaged.
- Meanwhile that veil, removed or thrown aside,
- Went floating from her, darkening as it went;
- And a huge mass, to bury or to hide,
- Approached this glory of the firmament;
- Who meekly yields, and is obscured--content
- With one calm triumph of a modest pride.
- William Wordsworth
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