Part 2 — Part ii
Reading edition
"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old! But something ails it now: the spot is cursed." Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Tintern Abbey.
Sensations sweet Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love.
That blessed mood, In which the burden of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened.
The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.
The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colors and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm By thoughts supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye. But hearing often-times The still, sad music of humanity.
To a Skylark.
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home.
Peter Bell.
Prologue. St. 1.
There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
Prologue. St. 27.
The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me—her tears, her mirths Her humblest mirth and tears.