Page 470

William Wordsworth. (1770–1850) (continued)

4940

Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

To a Butterfly. I ’ve watched you now a full half-hour.

4941

Often have I sighed to measure
By myself a lonely pleasure,—
Sighed to think I read a book,
Only read, perhaps, by me.

To the Small Celandine.

4942

As high as we have mounted in delight,
In our dejection do we sink as low.

Resolution and Independence. Stanza 4.

4943

But how can he expect that others should
Build for him, sow for him, and at his call
Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?

Resolution and Independence. Stanza 6.

4944

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy,
The sleepless soul that perished in his pride;
Of him who walked in glory and in joy,
Following his plough, along the mountain-side.
By our own spirits we are deified;
We Poets in our youth begin in gladness,
But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

Resolution and Independence. Stanza 7.

4945

That heareth not the loud winds when they call,
And moveth all together, if it moves at all.

Resolution and Independence. Stanza 11.

4946

Choice word and measured phrase above the reach
Of ordinary men.

Resolution and Independence. Stanza 14.

4947

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

Resolution and Independence. Stanza 17.

4948

Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will;
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

Earth has not anything to show more fair.

4949

The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration.

It is a beauteous Evening.

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