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William Wordsworth

(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

Poems of William Wordsworth

381. Yarrow Revisited 1/1/2004
382. Yarrow Unvisited 1/1/2004
383. Yarrow Visited 1/3/2003
384. Yes! Thou Art Fair, Yet Be Not Moved 4/5/2010
385. Yes, It Was The Mountain Echo 4/5/2010
386. Yew-Trees 4/5/2010
387. Young England--What Is Then Become Of Old 4/5/2010

The Trosachs

THERE 's not a nook within this solemn Pass,
   But were an apt confessional for one
   Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,
That Life is but a tale of morning grass
Wither'd at eve. From scenes of art which chase
   That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes
   Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,
Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass
Untouch'd, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest,

[Hata Bildir]