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< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems Nature Is What We See ‘Nature’ is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven— Nature is what we hear— The Bobolink—the Sea— Thunder—the Cricket— Nay—Nature is Harmony— Nature is what we know— Yet have no art to say— So impotent Our Wisdom is To […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems “Why Do I Love” You, Sir? “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Grass To answer—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place. Because He knows—and Do not You— And We know not— Enough for Us The Wisdom it be so— The […]

< Return to Emily Dickinson Poems Hope Is The Thing With Feathers ‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all— And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many […]

The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt. He was very much admired indeed. “He […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems Lucy Gray Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray, And when I cross’d the Wild, I chanc’d to see at break of day The solitary Child. No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wild Moor, The sweetest Thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems A Wren’s Nest AMONG the dwellings framed by birds In field or forest with nice care, Is none that with the little Wren’s In snugness may compare.No door the tenement requires, And seldom needs a laboured roof; Yet is it to the fiercest sun Impervious, and storm-proof.So warm, so […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems Intimations of Immortality The earth, and every common sight, To me did seemApparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;— Turn wheresoe’er I may,By night or day. The things which I have seen I now […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems The French Revolution Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy! For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood Upon our side, we who were strong in love! Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times, In which the meagre, stale, […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems The Kitten and Falling Leaves That way look, my Infant, lo! What a pretty baby-show! See the Kitten on the wall, Sporting with the leaves that fall, Withered leaves—one—two—and three— From the lofty elder-tree! Through the calm and frosty air Of this morning bright and fair, Eddying round and […]