THE Cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The ploughboy is whooping—anon—anon There ’s joy on the mountains; There ’s life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone!
March
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Mikor először tűnt elém, |
Up! up, my friend! and quit your books, Or surely you ’ll grow double; Up! up, my friend! and clear your looks! Why all this toil and trouble? The sun, above the mountain’s head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow.... |
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou Soul, that art the eternity of thought! And giv’st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion! not in vain, By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul— Not with... |
Five years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, 1 rolling from their mountain-springs With a soft inland murmur.—Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild, secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion,... |
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky; So was it when my life began, So is it now I am a man, So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. |