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" In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things. If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft — In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight;... "
The Etonian - Pagina 225
geredigeerd door - 1822
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A Selection from the Works of William Wordsworth, Poet Laureate

William Wordsworth - 1865 - 279 pagina’s
...and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things. If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft — In darkness and amid the many shapes Of...heart — How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 0 sylvan Wye ! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee ! And now, with...
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Chambers's readings in English poetry

Chambers W. and R., ltd - 1865
...and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things. If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft, In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of...my heart, How oft in spirit have I turned to thee, 0 sylvan Wye ! — thou wanderer through the woods — How often has my spirit turned to thee ! And...
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Familiar Quotations: Being an Attempt to Trace to Their Source Passages and ...

John Bartlett - 1865 - 480 pagina’s
...mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened. Hid. The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, Ibid. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion ; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and...
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The Fishermans Magazine and Review, Volume 2

1865
...about 87. ir. c.-p. FISHING STATIONS. GRAYLING FISHING AND WHERE TO GO FOR IT. " Oh sylvan Lugg ! tliou wanderer through the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee ! " THE grayling, or umber, as it is sometimes called, is a fish rather plentiful in some of the Hampshire...
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Poetic Configurations: Essays in Literary History and Criticism

Lowry Nelson - 2010
...but a vain belief," nonetheless in the midst of anxiety, when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and all the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, his spirit has often recalled the "sylvan Wye": thou wanderer through the woods, How often has my spirit...
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Doing Things with Texts: Essays in Criticism and Critical Theory

Meyer Howard Abrams - 1989 - 429 pagina’s
...which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world Is lighten'd; as well as times when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever...the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart. In such passages Wordsworth does what only the great poets do: by transforming inherited descriptive...
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The Fragrance of Sweet-Grass: L. M. Montgomery's Heroines and the Pursuit of ...

Elizabeth R. Epperly - 1993 - 275 pagina’s
...hedgerows, cottages, mountains, and fields. He stored up those pictures to solace him in darker times: how oft In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless...oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye! (50-6) And Wordsworth shares his memories and wisdom with his sister: Oh! yet a little while May I...
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Forests: The Shadow of Civilization

Robert Pogue Harrison - 2009 - 304 pagina’s
...fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my hears — How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan...the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee! (Wordsworth, 133) Perhaps this belief that he saw into the life of things is a vain one. But vain or...
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The Letters of William and Dorothy Wordsworth: Volume VIII. A Supplement of ...

William Wordsworth, Dorothy Wordsworth, Alan G. Hill - 1967 - 328 pagina’s
...not aware of the delight and happiness with which the sight of a Letter from you filled my heart. — O Sylvan Wye thou Wanderer through the Woods how often has my Spirit turned to thee!2 — I shall now have a thousand added reasons to think of this Stream with tenderness when I...
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Selected Poems

William Wordsworth - 1994 - 587 pagina’s
...and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things. If this 50 Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless...my heart How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 0 sylvan Wye! thou wanderer through the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee! And now, with...
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