Lyrical Ballads, with Other Poems, 1800, Volume 1 by William Wordsworth
page 36 of 152 (23%)
page 36 of 152 (23%)
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I well remember.--He was one who owned
No common soul. In youth by science nursed And led by nature into a wild scene Of lofty hopes, he to the world went forth, A favored being, knowing no desire Which genius did not hallow, 'gainst the taint Of dissolute tongues, and jealousy, and hate And scorn, against all enemies prepared. All but neglect. The world, for so it thought, Owed him no service: he was like a plant Fair to the sun, the darling of the winds, But hung with fruit which no one, that passed by, Regarded, and, his spirit damped at once, With indignation did he turn away And with the food of pride sustained his soul In solitude.--Stranger! these gloomy boughs Had charms for him; and here he loved to sit, His only visitants a straggling sheep, The stone-chat, or the glancing sand-piper; And on these barren rocks, with juniper, And heath, and thistle, thinly sprinkled o'er, Fixing his downcast eye, he many an hour A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here An emblem of his own unfruitful life: And lifting up his head, he then would gaze On the more distant scene; how lovely 'tis Thou seest, and he would gaze till it became Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain The beauty still more beauteous. Nor, that time When Nature had subdued him to herself |
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