| 000 | 05425nam a2201501 4500 | ||
|---|---|---|---|
| 003 | OSt | ||
| 005 | 20250121131838.0 | ||
| 008 | 250117s2019 enk 001 p eng d | ||
| 020 | _a9781788885201 | ||
| 040 |
_cQCPL _erda |
||
| 082 | _a821 | ||
| 100 | 1 |
_aWordsworth, William, _d1770-1850 _eauthor |
|
| 245 | 1 | 4 | _aThe poetry of William Wordsworth |
| 264 | 1 |
_aLondon : _bArcturus Publishing, _c2019 |
|
| 300 | _a254 pages | ||
| 336 |
_2rdacontent _atext |
||
| 337 |
_2rdamedia _aunmediated |
||
| 338 |
_2rdacarrier _avolume |
||
| 490 | _aEssentials poetry collection : best loved works from our greatest poets | ||
| 500 | _aIncludes index. | ||
| 505 | 0 | _aWritten in very early youth | |
| 505 | 0 | _aAn evening walk | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe reverie of poor Susan | |
| 505 | 0 | _aLines left upon a seat in a yew-tree | |
| 505 | 0 | _aA night-piece | |
| 505 | 0 | _aLines written at a small distance from my house | |
| 505 | 0 | _aWe are seven | |
| 505 | 0 | _aA whirl-blast from behind the hill | |
| 505 | 0 | _aGood Blake and Harry Gill | |
| 505 | 0 | _aHer eyes are wild | |
| 505 | 0 | _aLines written in early spring | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe tables turned | |
| 505 | 0 | _aLines written in early spring | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe tables turned | |
| 505 | 0 | _aLines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey | |
| 505 | 0 | _aA slumber did my spirit seal | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe two thieves | |
| 505 | 0 | _aNutting | |
| 505 | 0 | _aA poet's epitaph | |
| 505 | 0 | _aStrange fits of passion have I known | |
| 505 | 0 | _aShe dwelt among the untrodden ways | |
| 505 | 0 | _aSimon Lee : the old huntsman | |
| 505 | 0 | _aI travelled among unknown men | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThree years she grew in sun and shower | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe fountain | |
| 505 | 0 | _aLucy Gray | |
| 505 | 0 | _aRuth | |
| 505 | 0 | _aOn nature's invitation do I come | |
| 505 | 0 | _aBleak season was it, turbulent and bleak | |
| 505 | 0 | _aHart-leap well | |
| 505 | 0 | _aIt was an April morning : fresh and clear | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThere is an eminence, —of these our hills | |
| 505 | 0 | _aA narrow girdle of rough stones and crags | |
| 505 | 0 | _a'Tis said, that some have died for love | |
| 505 | 0 | _aMichael | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe sparrow's nest | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe sun has long been set | |
| 505 | 0 | _aComposed upon Westminster Bridge | |
| 505 | 0 | _aCharacter of the happy warrior | |
| 505 | 0 | _aCalais, August, 1802 | |
| 505 | 0 | _aIt is a beauteous evening, calm and free | |
| 505 | 0 | _aOn the extinction of the Venetian Republic | |
| 505 | 0 | _aLondon, 1802 | |
| 505 | 0 | _aGreat men have been among us | |
| 505 | 0 | _aTo a butterfly | |
| 505 | 0 | _aMy heart leaps up when I behold | |
| 505 | 0 | _aIt is not to be thought of that the flood | |
| 505 | 0 | _aWhen I have borne in memory what has tamed | |
| 505 | 0 | _aTo H. C. | |
| 505 | 0 | _aWho fancied what a pretty sight | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe solitary reaper | |
| 505 | 0 | _aYarrow unvisited | |
| 505 | 0 | _aEngland! The time is come when thou shoud'st wean | |
| 505 | 0 | _aTo the men of Kent, October 1803 | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe green linnet | |
| 505 | 0 | _aIt is no spirit who from heaven hath flown | |
| 505 | 0 | _aShe was a Phantom of delight | |
| 505 | 0 | _aI wandered lonely as a cloud | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe affliction of Margaret | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe forsaken | |
| 505 | 0 | _aRepentance | |
| 505 | 0 | _aFrench revolution | |
| 505 | 0 | _aOde to duty | |
| 505 | 0 | _aTo a sky-lark | |
| 505 | 0 | _aElegiac Stanzas | |
| 505 | 0 | _aWhen, to the attraction of the busy world | |
| 505 | 0 | _aStray pleasures | |
| 505 | 0 | _aPower of music | |
| 505 | 0 | _aStar-gazers | |
| 505 | 0 | _aYes, it was mountain echo | |
| 505 | 0 | _aNuns fret not at their convent's narrow room | |
| 505 | 0 | _aAdmonition | |
| 505 | 0 | _aHow sweet it is, when mother fancy rocks | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThose words were uttered as in pensive mood | |
| 505 | 0 | _aWith how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the sky | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe world is too much with us, late and soon | |
| 505 | 0 | _aWith ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh | |
| 505 | 0 | _aMethought I saw the footsteps of a throne | |
| 505 | 0 | _aOde : intimations of immorality | |
| 505 | 0 | _aBrook, that hast been my solace days and weeks | |
| 505 | 0 | _aAnd is it among rude untutored Dales | |
| 505 | 0 | _aO'er the wide earth on mountain and on plain | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe power of armies is a visible thing | |
| 505 | 0 | _aLaodamia | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade | |
| 505 | 0 | _aWeak is the will of man, his judgment blind | |
| 505 | 0 | _aHail, twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour | |
| 505 | 0 | _aEven as a dragon's eye that feels the stress | |
| 505 | 0 | _aSuprised by joy—impatient as the wind | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe pilgrims dream | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe stars are mansions built by nature's hand | |
| 505 | 0 | _aFrom this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play | |
| 505 | 0 | _aMutability | |
| 505 | 0 | _aNot love, not war, nor the tumultuous swell | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe wishing gate | |
| 505 | 0 | _aOn the power of sound | |
| 505 | 0 | _aCalm is the fragrant air | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe somnambulist | |
| 505 | 0 | _aFour fiery steed impatient of the rein | |
| 505 | 0 | _aScorn not the sonnet | |
| 505 | 0 | _aAirey-force valley | |
| 505 | 0 | _aMost sweet it is | |
| 505 | 0 | _aI know an aged man constrained to dwell | |
| 505 | 0 | _aThe unremitting voice of nightly streams | |
| 650 |
_aEnglish poetry _y19th century |
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| 690 |
_aLiterature _910993 |
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| 942 |
_2ddc _cBOOK |
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| 999 |
_c25313 _d25312 |
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