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" No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea... "
Papers of the Manchester Literary Club - Sivu 257
tekijä(t) Manchester Literary Club - 1880
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Poems, in Two Volumes, Nide 1

William Wordsworth - 1807 - 170 sivua
...Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely...steep, No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me froTn the fields of sleep, 14*...

Poems in 2 Vols., Reprinted Original Ed. of 1807 Ed. with Note on ..., Nide 2

William Wordsworth - 1807
...Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief : A timely...steep, No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And...

Poems, Nide 2

William Wordsworth - 1815
...Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief : A timely...steep, — No more shall grief of mine the season wrong : I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And...

Poems by William Wordsworth: Including Lyrical Ballads, and the ..., Nide 2

William Wordsworth, Dorothy Wordsworth - 1815
...Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young Lumbs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely...steep, — No more shall grief of mine the season wrong : I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And...

Blackwood's Magazine

1835
...tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought nf grief : A timely utterance gave that thought refin And I again am strong : The cataracts blow their trumpets from the sterp, No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; I hear the echoes through the mountain throng,...

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Nide 4

William Wordsworth - 1827
...Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely...steep, No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And...

The British poets of the nineteenth century, including the select works of ...

British poets - 1828 - 788 sivua
...the Bird« thus «ing a joj ou« «ong. And while the young Lamb« bound A« to the tabor'« sound. To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely...utterance gave that thought relief. And I again am «trong. The Cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep, — No more shall grief of mine the season...

Calcutta Magazine and Monthly Register, Niteet 25–28

1832
...But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth. MOUNTAIN MUSIC. The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep, No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, The winds come to me from the fields of sleep. THB...

Sacred Poetry: Consisting of Selections from the Works of the Most Admired ...

Henry Stebbing - 1832 - 402 sivua
...while the young lambs bound, As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief, But timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again...steep, No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, The winds come to mo from the fields of sleep,, And...

Sacred poetry: consisting of selections from the works of the most admired ...

Henry Stebbing - 1832 - 496 sivua
...while the young lamhs hound, As to the tahor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief, But timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong. The cataracts hlow their trumpets from the steep, No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; I hear the echoes...




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