‘The child is father to the man.’ How can he be? The words are wild… Suck any sense from that who can: ‘The child is father to the man. No; what the poet did write ran,
Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, D… Not untwist —slack they may be —th… In me ór, most weary, cry I can n… Can something, hope, wish day come… But ah, but O thou terrible, why…
What being in rank—old nature shou… That hére pérsonal tells off these… A bush—browed, beetle—brówed bíllo… With a soúth—wésterly wínd blúster… Of crumbling, fore—foundering, thu…
To seem the stranger lies my lot,… Among strangers. Father and mothe… Brothers and sisters are in Chris… And he my peace my parting, sword… England, whose honour O all my he…
O I admire and sorrow! The heart’… Discovering you, dark tramplers, t… A juice rides rich through bluebel… And beauty’s dearest veriest vein… Happy the father, mother of these!…
A buglar boy from barrack (it is o… There)—boy bugler, born, he tells… Mother to an English sire (he Shares their best gifts surely, fa… This very very day came down to us…
Not of all my eyes see, wandering… Is anything a milk to the mind so,… Poetry to it, as a tree whose boug… Say it is ashboughs: whether on a… Fast ór they in clammyish lashtend…
No worst, there is none. Pitched… More pangs will, schooled at forep… Comforter, where, where is your co… Mary, mother of us, where is your… My cries heave, herds—long; huddle…
Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si d… verumtamen justa loquar ad te: Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c… Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I… With thee; but, sir, so what I pl…
Repeat that, repeat, Cuckoo, bird, and open ear wells,… With a ballad, with a ballad, a re… Off trundled timber and scoops of… The whole landscape flushes on a s…
THIS darksome burn, horseback br… His rollrock highroad roaring down… In coop and in comb the fleece of… Flutes and low to the lake falls h… A windpuff—bonnet of fáwn—fróth
Mortal my mate, bearing my rock—a—… Warm beat with cold beat company,… Earlier or you fail at our force,… The ruins of, rifled, once a world… The telling time our task is; time…
TOWERY city and branchy between… Cuckoo—echoing, bell—swarmèd, lark… The dapple—eared lily below thee;… Once encounter in, here coped and… Thou hast a base and brickish skir…
The Eurydice—it concerned thee, O… Three hundred souls, O alas! on b… Some asleep unawakened, all un— warned, eleven fathoms fallen Where she foundered! One stroke
God with honour hang your head, Groom, and grace you, bride, your… With lissome scions, sweet scions, Out of hallowed bodies bred. Each by other’s comfort kind: