Wordsworth Read Online Free PDF

Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
                   And let the young Lambs bound
                   As to the tabor’s sound!
    We in thought will join your throng,
                   Ye that pipe and ye that play,
                   Ye that through your hearts today
                   Feel the gladness of the May!
    What though the radiance which was once so bright
    Be now for ever taken from my sight,
                   Though nothing can bring back the hour
    Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
                   We will grieve not, rather find
                   Strength in what remains behind;
                   In the primal sympathy
                   Which having been must ever be;
                   In the soothing thoughts that spring
                   Out of human suffering;
                   In the faith that looks through death,
    In years that bring the philosophic mind.
XI
    And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
    Forebode not any severing of our loves!
    Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
    I only have relinquished one delight
    To live beneath your more habitual sway.
    I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
    Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
    The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
                             Is lovely yet
    The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
    Do take a sober colouring from an eye
    That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
    Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
    Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
    Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
    To me the meanest flower that blows can give
    Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
    THE PRELUDE (1805 Version)
BOOK FIRST

INTRODUCTION – CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL-TIME
    Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze
    That blows from the green fields and from the clouds
    And from the sky: it beats against my cheek,
    And seems half-conscious of the joy it gives.
    5       O welcome Messenger! O welcome Friend!
    A captive greets thee, coming from a house
    Of bondage, from you City’s walls set free,
    A prison where he hath been long immured.
    Now I am free, enfranchis’d and at large,
    10     May fix my habitation where I will.
    What dwelling shall receive me? In what Vale Shall be my harbour? Underneath what grove
    Shall I take up my home, and what sweet stream
    Shall with its murmurs lull me to my rest?
    15     The earth is all before me: with a heart
    Joyous, nor scar’d at its own liberty,
    I look about, and should the guide I chuse
    Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,
    I cannot miss my way. I breathe again;
    20     Trances of thought and mountings of the mind
    Come fast upon me: it is shaken off,
    As by miraculous gift ’tis shaken off,
    That burthen of my own unnatural self,
    The heavy weight of many a weary day
    25     Not mine, and such as were not made for me.
    Long months of peace (if such bold word accord
    With any promises of human life),
    Long months of ease and undisturb’d delight
    Are mine in prospect; whither shall I turn
    30     By road or pathway or through open field,
    Or shall a twig or any floating thing
    Upon the river, point me out my course?
        Enough that I am free; for months to come
    May dedicate myself to chosen tasks;
    35     May quit the tiresome sea and dwell on shore,
    If not a Settler on the soil, at least
    To drink wild water, and to pluck green herbs,
    And gather fruits fresh from their native tree.
    Nay more, if I may trust myself, this hour
    40     Hath brought a gift that consecrates my joy;
    For I, methought, while the sweet breath of Heaven
    Was blowing on my body, felt within
    A corresponding mild creative breeze,
    A vital breeze which travell’d gently on
    45     O’er things which it had