Category: Lyrical Ballads, With a Few Other Poems

LINES LEFT UPON A SEAT IN A YEW-TREE WHICH STANDS NEAR THE LAKE OF ESTHWAITE, ON A DESOLATE PART OF THE SHORE, YET COMMANDING A BEAUTIFUL PROSPECT.

—Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely yew-tree stands Far from all human dwelling: what … Read the rest

FOSTER-MOTHER. I never saw the man whom you describe. MARIA. ‘Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly As mine and Albert’s common Foster-mother. FOSTER-MOTHER. Now blessings on the man, whoe’er he be, That joined your names with mine! O my … Read the rest

ARGUMENT.

How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by Storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the … Read the rest

SIMON LEE, THE OLD HUNTSMAN, WITH AN INCIDENT IN WHICH HE WAS CONCERNED

In the sweet shire of Cardigan, Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall, An old man dwells, a little man, I’ve heard he once was tall. Of years he … Read the rest

LINES WRITTEN AT A SMALL DISTANCE FROM MY HOUSE, AND SENT BY MY LITTLE BOY TO THE PERSON TO WHOM THEY ARE ADDRESSED.

It is the first mild day of March: Each minute sweeter than before, The red-breast sings from … Read the rest

Oh! what’s the matter? what’s the matter? What is’t that ails young Harry Gill? That evermore his teeth they chatter, Chatter, chatter, chatter still. Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, Good duffle grey, and flannel fine; He has a blanket … Read the rest

By Derwent’s side my Father’s cottage stood, (The Woman thus her artless story told) One field, a flock, and what the neighbouring flood Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold. Light was my sleep; my days in transport … Read the rest

No cloud, no relique of the sunken day Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip Of sullen Light, no obscure trembling hues. Come, we will rest on this old mossy Bridge! You see the glimmer of the stream beneath, But … Read the rest

And this place our forefathers made for man! This is the process of our love and wisdom, To each poor brother who offends against us— Most innocent, perhaps—and what if guilty? Is this the only cure? Merciful God? Each pore … Read the rest

In distant countries I have been, And yet I have not often seen A healthy man, a man full grown Weep in the public roads alone. But such a one, on English ground, And in the broad high-way, I met; … Read the rest