Quote #24
No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery.
More from William Wordsworth
- O Blithe newcomer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice. O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice?
- Thou unassuming Common-place Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for thee!
- Bright flower! whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow, Methinks th…
- Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose types of things through all degrees.
- Of vast circumference and gloom profound, This solitary Tree! A living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magn…
- The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream.
- There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore.
- Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!