The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 by William Wordsworth
page 264 of 675 (39%)
page 264 of 675 (39%)
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Now coldly given, now utterly refused.
The ground [66] I for my bed have often used: But what afflicts my peace with keenest ruth, Is that I have my inner self abused, Forgone the home delight of constant truth, 440 And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth. L "Through tears the rising sun I oft have viewed, Through tears have seen him towards that world descend [67] Where my poor heart lost all its fortitude: Three years a wanderer now my course I bend--[68] 445 Oh! tell me whither--for no earthly friend Have I."--She ceased, and weeping turned away; As if because her tale was at an end, She wept; because she had no more to say Of that perpetual weight which on her spirit lay. 450 LI True sympathy the Sailor's looks expressed, His looks--for pondering he was mute the while. Of social Order's care for wretchedness, Of Time's sure help to calm and reconcile, Joy's second spring and Hope's long-treasured smile, 455 'Twas not for _him_ to speak--a man so tried. Yet, to relieve her heart, in friendly style |
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