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< Return to all Wordsworth poems To the Daisy In youth from rock to rock I went From hill to hill, in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent, Most pleas’d when most uneasy; But now my own delights I make, My thirst at every rill can slake, And gladly Nature’s love partake Of thee, sweet […]

< Return to all Wordsworth poems The Tables Turned Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books; Or surely you’ll grow double: Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble? The sun, above the mountain’s head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His […]

  < Return to all Wordsworth poems Goody Blake and Harry Gill 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 on his back, […]

William Wordsworth Poems A Night Thought A Night Piece A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal A Wren’s Nest Among All Lovely Things My Love Had Been Goody Blake and Harry Gill Intimations of Immortality I Travelled Among Unknown Men I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud It Is A Beauteous Evening Lines Written in Early Spring […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Ballad of the Foxhunter “Now lay me in a cushioned chair “And carry me, you four, “With cushions here and cushions there, “To see the world once more. “And some one from the stables bring “My Dermot dear and brown, “And lead him gently in a ring, “And […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Ballad of Father O’Hart Good Father John O’Hart In penal days rode out To a shoneen who had free lands And his own snipe and trout. In trust took he John’s lands; Sleiveens were all his race; And he gave them as dowers to his daughters, And they […]

< Return to All WB Yeats Down by the Salley Gardens Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree. […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Stolen Child Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we’ve hid our faery vats, Full of berries, And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters […]

< Return to All WB Yeats Ephemera “Your eyes that once were never weary of mine “Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, “Because our love is waning.” And then she: “Although our love is waning, let us stand “By the lone border of the lake once more, “Together in that hour of gentleness “When […]

< Return to All WB Yeats The Indian to his Love The island dreams under the dawn And great boughs drop tranquillity; The peahens dance on a smooth lawn, A parrot sways upon a tree, Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea. Here we will moor our lonely ship And wander ever with […]

<Return to All WB Yeats The Man Who Dreamed of Faeryland He stood among a crowd at Drumahair; His heart hung all upon a silken dress, And he had known at last some tenderness, Before earth made of him her sleepy care; But when a man poured fish into a pile, It seemed they raised […]