English poem
Sole Listener, Duddon! To The Breeze That Played
Sole listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played With thy clear voice, I caught the fitful sound Wafted o'er sullen moss and craggy mound-- Unfruitful solitudes, that seemed to upbraid The sun in heaven!--but now, to form a shade For Thee, green alders have together wound Their foliage; ashes flung their arms around; And birch-trees risen in silver colonnade. And thou hast also tempted here to rise, 'Mid sheltering pines, this Cottage rude and grey; Whose ruddy children, by the mother's eyes Carelessly watched, sport through the summer day, Thy pleased associates:--light as endless May On infant bosoms lonely Nature lies.[FC]
More by William Wordsworth
- She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways
- She Was A Phantom Of Delight
- Silvia, let us from the crowd retire
- Soft As A Cloud Is Yon Blue Ridge--The Mere
- Strange Fits Of Passion Have I Known
- Surprised By Joy--Impatient As The Wind
- Take, Cradled Nursling Of The Mountain, Take
- The Fairest, Brightest, Hues Of Ether Fade