Some poems by Wordsworth

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802

Earth has not any thing to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
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!

It is a Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, 
The holy time is quiet as a Nun 
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun 
Is sinking down in its tranquility; 
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea; 
Listen! the mighty Being is awake, 
And doth with his eternal motion make 
A sound like thunder—everlastingly. 
Dear child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, 
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, 
Thy nature is not therefore less divine: 
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; 
And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, 
God being with thee when we know it not.

Links

Wordsworth Society: Grasmere website
The Poetry Foundation on Wordsworth
Wordsworth, ‘The Prelude’, read aloud by members of the English Faculty, Cambridge, October 2010